A Prince Among Toads
by Lucinda
Summary: AU post season 4 BtVS, post X-Men 1. Faith heads back east, and rescues an interesting - and green - guy named Mort.
1. parts 1 to 3

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Faith, Mort(Toad)  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS or Marvel Entertainment/X-Men the Movie. I took the name for Toad partly from the comics, which had the name 'Mortimer Toynbee'.  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, Wic, anyone else please ask.  
  
note: Post X-Men 1, AU post season 4 BtVS  
  
  
  
She was awake, and everything was whole, working again. She'd healed from... there had been a fight with a blonde girl... Buffy? Faith felt so confused. How had she ended up in a hospital? Where was she even at? Which way did she take to get out of here? Her thoughts felt fuzzy.  
  
Eventually, she stumbled her way out of the hospital, her mind clearing as she kept moving. Had there been drugs in that IV? Something to keep her out cold? Got to get home, get some real clothing, find out what's going on...  
  
But home didn't help. Her apartment had been trashed, the windows broken, her furniture gone, the kitchen empty... Dust and cobwebs had gathered in the corners, and the place had a funny smell, a combination of dust, animal musk, and something bitter that she couldn't name. Thank God there were still a few things in the closet, and the emergency stash that she'd tucked up the vent was still there. She felt so much better with clothing on. But Dick would never have let her place end up like this...  
  
Something must have gone wrong with his Ascension. That could only be bad for her. He'd been the only person that had really cared about her in this place... well, him and B's mom. But Joyce would be alright, she had people to make sure of that, and B would be furious if she even suspected that Faith had been near her mom. She had this sudden flash of memory, B glaring at her, the knife that Dick had given her glittering in the streetlights as it plunged towards her stomach, burning pain as her body went cold and she fell backwards… No reason to stick around here, she could grab some weapons to go with the cash, and get out of this miserable town. Go somewhere else, somewhere that she would be the only Slayer, the only hero... It sounded good.  
  
She hit a sporting goods store, grabbing a duffel bag, a couple good knives, an axe, a crossbow, and the entire stock of wooden bolts, maybe three dozen in all. And a leather jacket. After that, she caught a bus ride, heading home. Back to the East Coast, where she knew there was a call for a Slayer, and she wouldn't have to worry about competition.  
  
Slowly, she made her way back to the area that she had grown up. Not the direct route, just in case someone was trying to follow her. She made trips north, and occasionally more southernly. There was even the occasional doubling back if she got a particular feeling about a place, and this one time when she'd just had to get a better look at some gorgeous mountains. The view had been amazing. Honestly, she wasn't in any real hurry to go back to the place that she'd spent her youth in.  
  
It hadn't been the happiest of pasts, but it was hers, and she wouldn't be in the shadow of any other Slayer. Faith would be the hero, the savior, the focus of attention. Nobody would be looking at her like a second rate imitation… And she could mourn for Dick. Yeah, he may have been a bad guy, but he was the closest to a father that she'd ever had. Got to look hard for that silver lining… and hope that it wasn't really just tin foil.  
  
Of course, the almost leisurely trip had a few side benefits. She'd regained most of her memories and sorted out the confusion, and had her muscle tone back. Maybe she wasn't in top shape yet, but there had been a lot of improvement compared to the way shed felt after waking up from an eight-month coma. She still shuddered to think about it. Would she have ever woke up if she hadn't been a Slayer? Would she have even made it to the hospital if she had been a normal girl? Faith was afraid both answers would be no.  
  
But there was a downside to being back out, on her own. She had no watcher, no resources to figure out what the hell some nasty thing she bumped into was, nobody to help patch her up if she got hurt. She'd never been quite this alone since she'd been Called. Before, she'd had Melissa, her Watcher. But Mellie was gone now, killed by Kakistos. And it wasn't like she could just call up the Council and ask for a new Watcher. They'd probably have a few objections to the whole hanging out with a guy who aspired to near invulnerable demon hood. Not that they'd been very good about trying to help her, she was nothing to the Council. Just the current in a long line of Slayers, kill one and get a new one, all interchangeable and disposable. She almost wondered if the Watchers other than Mellie and Giles could even remember her name… Well, there had been that other one, Wesley Windy-Price, or something like that.  
  
Which was why she was in a foul mood when she arrived at the Meyerston Cemetery. The only good thing was that there weren't the same teeming hordes of vamps and demons that showed up in Sunnydale. Granted, the ones here tended to be smarter, but sometimes the sheer numbers could wear you down. Probably the whole point of bad guys having armies of minions anyhow. She could hear the sounds of a fight.  
  
She drew a stake and a knife, moving towards the fight quickly. Best be ready for anything, and there was no guarantee of vamps. She was almost relieved when she found that yes, it was vamps. Four of them were trying to catch... well, she wasn't quite sure what the other guy was. His skin had a sort of green cast, and he kept making these impossible jumps… she wasn't even sure that she could jump like that. But hey, nothing said that she only had to save humans from the baddies. Faith jumped into the fight, staking one vamp in the back before the others had quite figured out that she was there.  
  
She'd just started to enjoy the fight when the last vamp was suddenly pushed forward, impaling himself onto the stake. His ashes fell away, revealing the greenish guy standing behind him. He had brown hair, and big dark eyes that were full of questions.  
  
"Could I get an answer if I asked what the hell just happened?" His voice didn't quite sound local, and there was something slightly off, as if something wasn't quite put together quite the same as a human's.  
  
Faith slid the stake and knife back into her jacket, wiping the dust from her hands. "Vampires. You don't see quite as many here on the east coast, but… those were definitely vamps. Stake in the heart, fire, beheading. Holy water and crosses burn them."  
  
"Here I thought vampires were just fiction." He shook his head, rubbing at his arm. "What else is real that isn't supposed to be?"  
  
That stopped Faith for a moment. If he was asking what else was real, did that mean that greenie wasn't some sort of not so hostile demon? "Well, there's magic, werewolves, all sorts of demons some of which are real nasty characters… which brings up the question what are you? I was sort of thinking maybe some type of demon on account of the green and jumping, but…"   
  
"I'm a mutant, not a demon." He looked part way between offended and afraid.  
  
Faith grinned, everything making sense now. "A mutant… huh. That explains that then. Lot more fuss about mutants over on this coast too. You might not want to go spending too much time in the cemeteries, there might be more vamps in the area."  
  
"I find it a bit disturbing that you can talk about vampires as if it's an everyday occurrence." He made a sort of stretching motion, and his back made a few popping noises. He looked at her, seeming a bit uncertain of himself. "uggh. I guess I should say... thanks."  
  
Faith had the oddest feeling that she'd just bumped into someone as lost as she was. "Hey… do you need a place to crash for the night? There's a second bed at my hotel room, and I got a shower…"  
  
He looked surprised, as if he couldn't quite believe the invitation had been extended to him. Still, he picked up a duffel, one similar to her own, but a good deal more worn and dirty. "That would be good. I'm Mort."  
  
"Faith. Come on, let's get back to the hotel… then maybe I can have you help me figure out what's been going on the past few months." She smiled, starting back towards the hotel.  
  
"You hadn't heard? About the Mutant Registration proposal, Magneto, any of that? Where have you been, in a cave somewhere?" He sounded astonished as he glanced at her, actually pausing in his walk.  
  
"A coma, actually. For the last eight months." She scowled, not liking the thoughts of how she'd spent her time before that. Faith didn't even realize that her hand had touched the scar, a tiny reassurance that she was feeling better, that it hadn't opened up, wasn't bleeding. Logically, after nine months, there was no way that would happen, but shed only been awake for one of them.  
  
"Right… that would do it. It's a long story." He sounded a bit quieter, as if he hadn't quite expected that sort of an answer. One hand raked over his hair, as if trying to sort his thoughts from the outside.  
  
"I got time. Plenty of time... well, enough time for that anyhow." Faith smiled a bit, thinking about the contrast. She didn't have anything to keep her from a long explanation, but the odds were good that she'd never see twenty. Yeah, it was just… incomparable, the life of a Slayer.  
  
End part 1.  
  
He'd let her have the shower first, and she'd felt much better when she emerged, the warm water and scented body wash making her feel much better. She still had bruises aching at her, and a lot of questions, but waved Mort towards the shower. Faith had just sighed, closing her eyes. When was the last time she'd been alone with a guy that hadn't been trying to screw her? Other than Dick and the people he'd had her kill? She wasn't certain.  
  
Eventually, he came out of the bathroom, wearing just a pair of green plaid boxers. He didn't look bad that way, and the greenish cast had a slight mottling, being paler over his stomach and thighs. Mort had some good muscles, especially through his legs. He carried the bag in his hand, looking at it with a mixture of dismay and apology. "Everything's dirty."  
  
She just chuckled, a little amused. "Yeah… my stuff needs to see the washer pretty badly. We can hit it a bit later. You were going to tell me about this whole mutant legal thing, and Magneto."  
  
He let himself fall backwards on the other bed, a near blissful sigh escaping. "Ahhh… mattress. Wonderful things. Right… I assume you have the basic idea of what a mutant is?"  
  
"Yeah. I know what mutants are. People who were born a bit different, so they don't all look the same, or they can do weird things like run faster than a car, or toss cars, or read minds. And a lot of people are really freaked out by the whole thing, and are making a big fuss and beating up mutants." Faith stretched her leg, frowning as her ankle crackled when rotated. "I've been a bit too busy worrying about vamps and demons to have much more of an idea than that."  
  
"That's enough to start with." He rolled over, leaning on his stomach and looking at her. His voice was bitter when he continued. "Someone had the idea that all the mutants should be listed in an official government registry. Who they were, what they can do, where they live. They wanted to make it something that every mutant was required to do. And mandatory testing to make certain there were no mutants trying to hide themselves among the normal humans.""  
  
"Is that even legal? Wouldn't that be sort of like… registering everyone with German ancestry, or Japanese?" Faith frowned, thinking the whole mandatory registration thing sounded a bit… much. It sounded suspicious, and probably up to no good. What would be done with that information? Who would keep it?  
  
"Funny you should make the German comparison." He shook his head. "From the sounds of things, it would have been closer to the mandatory registration of Jews before the second World War. Maybe not with the little badges, but… Some of us were worried. If they get a list of names, what happens if a mutant wants a job? Do employers start checking for criminal background, drug use, and genetic mutation? Would mutants start disappearing in the middle of the night? Government controlled mutant spies?"  
  
Faith shivered, her mind envisioning those possibilities. She could imagine that sort of thing all to easily, especially after working with Dick. He'd found all sorts of uses for her Slayer strength that weren't killing vampires. "Nice images, Mort. Eeee. Or would a crime against a mutant be investigated as seriously?"  
  
"Yeah, that sort of thing. Only, nobody in the legislature was going for the 'separate but equal' line. Just… the mutant menace, and fears of 'Them'. Of course, there really wasn't anything for them to be afraid of until they started this whole registration thing." Mort grinned, looking like he found the memory amusing. "Magneto came from Europe… he was in the whole mess of the Second World War. A Jew in Poland. He took the whole idea of any sort of ancestry or gene based registration real bad… They created their worst fear."  
  
"So, where's this Magneto guy now?" Faith felt so curious. It sounded like she'd missed some interesting stuff.  
  
"He had a plan to make certain the world leaders couldn't ignore the mutant question, that they couldn't just push mutants into a dark corner and shut a lid. But this group of idiots who think the government wants to keep them safe stopped him. He's in prison now." Mort was glaring, eyes filled with anger and pain and worry.  
  
Faith sighed, wondering if Mort had ever had anyone else with him, offering to try to help make his life better. How Mort had been useful to Magneto, what skill of talent he'd brought to this master plan… there was always something that made you useful to them. People didn't just lift the hopeless and desperate up for nothing. There was always something in it for themselves… Faith didn't realize it, but her fingers were tracing over the scar on her stomach again. "What was your part in that plan? There's always some way that you can be useful when someone takes you in."  
  
He looked at her, his eyes full of conflicting emotions, and his mouth opened as if to shout something angry, defensive. The words were silenced before they could emerge as his eyes spotted the edge of her scar. "I build things. Metal, electronics… I don't do very much innovation, but give me blueprints, tools, and materials and I can build it."  
  
Faith sighed, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes closing a bit as she considered things. "So, here we are. Magneto's in prison, and Dick's blown to bits, and now both you and me are left dangling. Or maybe the thread broke, and we've fallen away, out of the fire. What do we do with ourselves now?"  
  
It was an awkward question. Neither of them had an answer for it, and an almost uncomfortable silence filled the room, gradually replaced by even breathing, and a slight gargling snore.  
  
End part 2.  
  
Morning made everything seem a little… well, maybe not better, but calmer. Bruises and aches had healed, and unsettled emotions and memories had been given a little time to settle again. There was also a couple of simple goals – getting their laundry clean, and finding some breakfast.  
  
"Ahh… simple goals. It's a wonderful thing." Mort sighed, leaning against the wall of the laundry room with a smile. "And I don't need to worry about someone stealing the washer and dryer, or having to fight through a crowd to get here."  
  
"You haven't seen how these places get at about three, have you?" Faith chuckled, looking at her new… what exactly was Mort to her? A friend, a partner? They weren't lovers, although that could still change. But… what were they?  
  
"Hmmm… no. Not to welcome in most places, being green and all." He grinned suddenly, looking at her as if wondering something. Then, in a somewhat rusty sounding voice, he began to sing, slightly off key. "It's not that easy being green… having to spend each day the color of the leaves…"  
  
Faith burst out laughing, wondering if she would have tears running down her face from the intensity of her amusement. Mort was singing the song of Kermit the Frog… from Sesame Street. "That's… oh Mort, that's just hilarious. You're the first guy I've been around who just bursts into muppet songs. You're great. Well, maybe not at the singing part, but…"  
  
"Glad to be of service." He smiled at her, trying to look calm and ending up with more of a smug expression than anything else.  
  
Faith just laughed. When the buzzer rang, she pointed towards the dryer. "Your turn to check. Is that load dry yet?"  
  
Opening the door on the front, Mort peeked inside, grinning as his hand became buried in Mountain Spring scented laundry. "Not quite dry, but it looks like your underwear is trying something fresh and perverted with my boxers and your bra."  
  
Faith glanced at him, and with an almost serious expression asked a question. "How do you know it's something fresh, and not a stale old perversion?"  
  
"Scented dryer sheets, my dear. Nothing stale smelling about that." He managed to keep his voice level, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner that had Faith laughing again.  
  
"Good grief… and you actually managed to keep a straight face…" Faith laughed, having slid down the wall, ending up in a sort of crouching half seated position, just laughing. "I suppose that is the whole point of the dryer sheets though."  
  
"Yeah, that and getting you to shell out another couple dollars at the grocery store." He shrugged, looking at his hands, one finger rubbing at the edge of his thumbnail. "Sometimes… Faith, do you ever wonder how your life would be if you were normal? Not a Slayer, not a mutant, well, that would be me, but… if things were different?"  
  
"All the time. Not just if I were a normal human, but… all sorts of if things were different. If I were human, if I'd never gone to California, if I'd stayed with Mellie… If I'd had two good parents… lots of if's. And it doesn't change anything, except that I can generally come up with a way that things could have been worse than they are." Faith shrugged a little, having spent far more hours than she wanted to admit playing the 'what if' game.  
  
He chuckled a little, still looking at his hands. "I know how that goes. No matter how bad things are, they could always get worse. Worse for me, worse for you, worse for everyone. And I'd like to try to keep everything from going to hell, you know?"  
  
"Got a plan for that?" Faith sort of lurched to her feet, feeling the faint ache of a couple bruises that hadn't quite healed up.  
  
Glancing at her, Mort smiled a bit, although his eyes looked sad. "Not really. I'm not too good at plans, more of a follower and construction sort of guy. Original thought was never really encouraged from a guy who looks like an amphibian. Never. But I'd like to try to make a difference."  
  
"Then stick with me. I don't really have too much of a plan yet, but I'm ready for action. Hunt some vamps, kill the occasional demon menace, see the sights… It might be good to have someone with me. Very least, I'll have someone to take a look at cuts on my back and help with bandages." Faith made the offer impulsively, but she meant it. She was tired of being alone, tired of having nobody that she could talk to, of risking her life and staggering back to a cold dark room and collapsing into stiff bruises.  
  
He smiled, something that might have been hope dawning on his face. It was a good look for him, and it made him look quite fine. Maybe he was a little off from normal, but so was she. And he still looked good, and seemed cool with the whole Slayer mess. "Sounds quite educational. And naturally, the pair of us together should be slightly safer than either of us separately…"  
  
"Yeah, safer." Faith smiled, thinking of all the other possibilities that had just opened up. They would be… sort of partners, traveling companions. Maybe more, eventually. But they wouldn't be alone.  
  
End part 3. 


	2. parts 4 to 6

Eventually, when all the laundry was clean and carted back to the room, underwear perversions aside, they tried to come up with a plan as they sorted out his laundry from hers. He didn't have anywhere in particular to go, and all she had was the vague goal of killing vampire and demon menaces away from Sunnydale. That left a lot of territory…  
  
"We need some way to travel. How did you get out here?" Mort was frowning a bit as he rolled up his laundry, stowing it back into his battered duffel.  
  
"Go Greyhound. It's not just a commercial, it's… hard to get tracked if you take the bus. I haven't got a license… Mellie thought it was more important to learn how to shoot a crossbow and throw knives than drive a car." Faith shrugged. "It may be a bit unusual, but I wasn't exactly the most normal girl before."  
  
"Maybe a motorcycle… takes less space, more maneuverable, and I can fix one if it breaks." Mort looked almost like he was thinking out loud.  
  
"Works for me. Plus there's the cool factor. Almost any motorcycle is sort of cool, but not just any car, you know?" Faith grinned, glad that Mort was willing to look for solutions instead of just worrying over problems.  
  
"To change the topic, are you going out looking for vampires again tonight?" He looked at her, and there was something in his eyes.  
  
"Yeah. I think there are still more in the area, might as well try to clean out the town." Faith shrugged, wondering what Mort was thinking. "Want to come along?"  
  
"Sounds interesting. And you mentioned wanting someone to watch your back, which I can do." He offered a hesitant smile.  
  
Faith wanted the help. Desperately craved having someone to be there for her, to offer her the same support that Buffy had in Sunnydale. "It'll be dangerous…"  
  
"Before Magneto's plan… failed, I lived in his base, and so did his other people. If I can survive living somewhere with Mystique and Sabertooth, a few vampires can't be that bad. Just… well, what kills them, before we go?" There was something half way between bad memories and humor in his expression.  
  
"Evil roommates, hmm? I've met a few of those… normally human though. For vamps, wooden stake through the heart, beheading in some way, shape or form. If it severs the spine between the brain and the heart, it works. Holy water burns them… apparently quite well from the inside, if you can manage. Fire and sunlight, but it's dark, and I don't think you said anything about having the super mutant power to summon fire." Faith shook her head, collecting a knife and a few stakes, some of which she passed to Mort.  
  
"Sorry, no. Can't call fire unless I have a lighter or matches." His smile was calm, almost teasing. "I guess we'll just have to be a bit more active."  
  
Faith felt her lips curve into a teasing smile, and the words just slipped out, a lot more flirtatious than she'd intended. "I like active."  
  
Mort blinked a few times, as if trying to make sense of her, or to see if she'd really said what he'd thought that she'd said. "Good. So, shall we go kill some of these vampires? With a great deal of activity?"  
  
Faith led the way towards the cemetery, wondering why her cheeks felt so warm. She couldn't be blushing, could she? No, she couldn't, so it had to be something else… it must be a little too warm in the hotel. "Best stay alert, some of them are smart. They might try an ambush. Not particularly for us, but just… for anyone. Most vamps are equal opportunity diners."  
  
They were moving along the path, through a section with rows of trees. One side held a fencerow, intended to prevent the wind from blowing away a field, the other held an orchard, the scent of fallen apples almost too sweet in the night air. Something flickered at the corner of her vision, an almost impossibly fast flicker of movement. Something small, and in the air… was it dangerous? Turning, she tried to figure out what that flicker could have been. "What the…"  
  
"Hmm?" Mort's noise sounded a little off, almost as if he was talking around a mouthful of gum.  
  
"I thought I saw something… Keep your eyes open for trouble. There could be more than just vamps out tonight." She tried to keep her unease down. She hated having no idea what she would find on patrol, and if there was something small, fast, and airborne, they could be so screwed… and not in a fun way.  
  
There was a sound, as if Mort was spitting something out. "Right, alert for anything."  
  
Almost, she turned around to ask him what he'd had in his mouth. But there were bigger concerns. She could feel something ahead, maybe vamps, maybe something else, but definitely dangerous. "Ahead, there's trouble. Not quite sure what, but… something bad. Maybe more than one."  
  
"Trouble, just what we were looking for… oh, that's right. We were looking for trouble." He chuckled just a little, the sound not carrying far.  
  
Faith shrugged, knowing that she was grinning already. She was something of an adrenaline junkie, loving that rush where everything was suddenly clearer, and time around you seemed to slow down. It made her feel more alive. And it just might get her killed some day, but hey, not like she was going to live forever anyhow. "Time to work."  
  
End part 4.  
  
There were two vampires and something else, a large hulking thing with green skin and arms that went down to it's knees. It had a muzzle full of sharp teeth, and ridges of bone that started over it's eyes and flared into crests over it's head, shading from green to an amber yellow. Definitely trouble.  
  
Faith headed towards the vampires, glad that there would be no tough questions about how to kill them. Just a simple stake through the heart, and they would be gone. Mort seemed to be doing alright, mainly keeping the green thing occupied as it tried to slash him open, snarling and growling the whole time. The vampires weren't difficult, clearly no more than minions, and soon they were nothing more than dust in the wind.  
  
That only left the green thing. It kept trying to slash Mort with the wicked talons on it's three fingered hands, and snapping at him with it's big teeth. He kept dodging, occasionally leaping out of it's way with more of those impossible moves. "Now would be a good time to kill this… thing."  
  
"I'm working on it. Keep your pants on, Mort." Faith half screamed her response, trying to find a weak point in the thing.  
  
"Considering our charming company, I promise they're staying right where they are. He's not my type." There was definite sarcastic humor in his retort.  
  
Grinning, she feinted, trying to catch it's attention, following that with her foot lashing out, connecting with one bony elbow. "What, too scaly for your tastes? What happened to that equal opportunity talk?"  
  
Leaping over the creature's head, Mort offered what might have been the one finger salute. "I was going to say his teeth are too big. And really, I don't need someone more green than I am in a relationship."  
  
Her chance came when it tried yet again to attack Mort, the forward lunge throwing off it's balance. She stabbed, a stake going into it's back where a human would have kidneys, and slashed at its throat with her knife. The blood spurted away from her, and the thing began shaking at clawing at its back, collapsing to the ground in a heap.  
  
"Well, that was definitely active." Mort shook his head, watching the thing twitch from a distance of about ten feet. "Is that the night, or are we looking for more trouble?"  
  
Faith chuckled, glancing over at Mort. She hoped that she hadn't pissed him off with that crack about the demon. "Probably should make a sweep through the cemetery. And umm… about that crack… I wasn't serious, not really."  
  
He only chuckled. "Just remember that I try not to go out with anyone greener than me, or that looks like they'd take a chunk out if they tried to kiss me. The green's a bit of ego, but the teeth… that's just not safe."  
  
Faith looked over, trying to figure out if he was actually serious or just joking with her. "And the whole male demon thing isn't a turn off?"  
  
"Why Faith, what prompts the sudden interest in my sex life? Idle curiosity, or something more personal?" He was definitely teasing her now.  
  
"Just trying to figure you out." Faith shrugged, trying to ignore the images filtering into her imagination. She could think of some very personal questions or contributions to his sex life. But maybe that was just the slaying talking? It always did make her hungry and horny…  
  
"Flattering as it is that I rate that much attention, I think you should give a little of that attention to the group of people over there, sneaking along with a tied up person." There was a tangle of emotions in his voice, and Faith would have liked the opportunity to sort them out.  
  
Glancing over, Faith realized that he was right. Maybe eight of them, the right height and shape to be a bunch of guys, carrying a struggling smaller form. They had on dark clothing, and some sort of hoods that obscured their heads… but she didn't pick up a supernatural feeling from them. "I think they're human… Still doesn't look like they're up to anything good. Once more into the fray and all that."  
  
They started at an angle that would intersect the group. Hopefully, they could get some idea what was going on before they had to fight… Faith knew for certain that human didn't equal good, or even neutral. Human just meant no special abilities and weaker than she was… unless they were actually mutants. She couldn't tell that without looking at their faces, which were conveniently hidden. All she could tell was that they had yellow bands on their right arms, something maybe three inches wide. "What the hell are they up to?"  
  
end part 5.  
  
"Let me get a closer look at those bands…" Mort's voice was low, all the humor gone. "If they're what I think they are, this is an intended murder."  
  
Before Faith could do more than suck in a breath of surprise, he was gone. She wondered what he thought the arm bands were, that it would tell him their plans. But even if he was wrong, it didn't look good. How many good, safe reasons were there for carrying a bound up struggling person through the night, away from town? The only one that she could think of was an exorcism, and she somehow doubted that was the case.  
  
As she got closer, Faith caught a glimpse of purple hair from the tied up person. That told her either mutant, non-human, or a rebellious person with their own taste in fashion. The color just wasn't on the list of human options. Purple hair was also tied up, gagged, and blindfolded, and she could see the ropes biting into the skin. Definitely not a friendly outing… The plus side, they didn't look like they had guns or other large weapons. She really hoped that she was right about that one…  
  
Faith was close enough to see the band on one of them now, and there was something like a bird, and orange letters underneath. All she could make out were the last two, a smaller O and a capitol H. If she were honest, if sort of gave her flashbacks to the Indiana Jones movies, with the red Nazi arm bands on the bad guys. Not a good sign, and she reminded herself that they were human, she could break bones if she wasn't careful. But did she really want to be careful?  
  
She caught a glimpse of Mort, and he looked… God, he looked furious. Like he wanted to hurt them. That was all the signal that she waited for, and she lunged at the robed figures with a shriek of 'Bahnzhaiii!' Granted, she didn't have any idea what it meant, but it was fun to shout as she leapt into the group, kicking and punching. They dropped the purple haired person, either a woman or a younger teen from the size, and started focusing on trying to hurt her.  
  
Faith found herself getting lost in her anger, not thinking about their human frailty, or the possibility that she might kill someone. She just lashed out, hitting at any dark moving shape.  
  
"Hey! They're down already." Mort's voice shook her out of it. "Besides, we have someone to remove from the scene."  
  
Faith winced, having almost forgotten the whole point of this. Rescue the purple haired captive. Save the person, not kill the guys in the FoH arm bands. She might have done both. "Right… let's get our pal here and bail."  
  
She picked up the person, and they left quickly, in Faith's case pursued by the specters of a guilty conscience. They had been human, and she might have killed them. Not supposed to kill humans, no more blood on her hands… But what had they been planning anyhow?  
  
They stopped at a park in the town, and Faith settled the person on a bench. Drawing her knife, she spoke in what she hoped would be a soothing, steady voice. "Hold still, I'm going to get some of these off of you."  
  
A couple locks of purple hair fell away with the blindfold and gag, but she didn't draw blood. Closer inspection showed that purple hair looked to be about thirteen, and most likely a boy. The tee shirt and pants were too baggy to tell. The near victim was looking at them both with wide, frightened blue eyes.  
  
"You… saved me? Last thing I remembered there was this cloth…" The voice was a bit hoarse, but also seemed to hint towards male.  
  
"Before or after the guy in the dark robes were carrying you out into the woods?" Faith's question only carried a little sarcasm. "I can only answer the after. We found the little party, crashed it, there was some fighting, we kicked their asses, grabbed you, and came here."  
  
"Why did they do it?" The voice was a bit shaky, and Faith was positive the kid was scared.  
  
"They're part of the Friends of Humanity, and you look different. My guess is that you were to be an example of how much they don't like mutants." Mort's voice was dry, and bitter.  
  
"But I'm not… ummm." It was as if the protest died under the idea that insulting the rescuers would generally be a bad thing. "I don't like the idea of death. And I color my hair anyhow."  
  
"Good for you." Mort's voice held more of that dry sarcasm. "Let me put this simply. You don't look like they want. Therefore, they are willing to kill you, under the excuse – true or false- of mutation. If you stay in this area, they'll try again. Eventually, someone will kill you. The question of are you a mutant a not won't count for much if you're dead."  
  
One hand reached for the neck, and the kid swallowed hard. With a very faint voice, stunned words emerged. "Good point. Dead's kind of… the end of the debate."  
  
Faith shrugged. "It's not like there's any excuse to sugar coat it. You could get killed over this, and I'm not going to leave you in the dark about the danger. Life sucks, it's not fair, the whole deal. I know. Doesn't change anything though.  
  
"Maybe I can go spend time with my uncle Hank up in New York…" The kid looked nervous now. "Umm… thanks and all, but… I think I'll be going now."  
  
Faith watched as the kid left. They hadn't even found out his name, but still… it gave her a funny warm feeling in her stomach. "We actually…we saved someone's life."  
  
"Yeah, we did." Mort sounded thoughtful. "Sort of a funny feeling. I think I like it."  
  
Faith smiled, agreeing with that description perfectly. It was a funny feeling, not something that she was used to. She wouldn't mind feeling it more often, it was kind of nice. "Yeah… we saved that kid's life."  
  
The trip back to the hotel was filled with thoughtful silence. Faith had many thoughts about Slaying, and the whole good and evil debate. But working for Dick had never given her that warm feeling inside.  
  
End part 6. 


	3. parts 7 to 9

Faith ordered pizza, and as they were waiting for it to be delivered, she stretched on her bed, feeling the bruises that were forming from those vamps. "Why do I remember things being easier before?"  
  
"How should I know that one, Faith? Wait, does it have to do with this Mellie person that you mentioned?" Mort was inspecting his shirt, trying to find out if that green demon had slashed it open. There had been other concerns outside.  
  
"Probably." Folding her hands behind her head, Faith closed her eyes, remembering her Watcher – her real Watcher, not that imposter Gwendolyn Post or the inept Wesley, but Mellie. The way that Mellie would carefully ask how things had gone, even occasionally helping on the sweeps through the cemeteries. Mellie who hadn't made her feel like a freak about this destiny thing. "She wanted to help me be the best Slayer that I could. To be familiar with any weapon, in case I had to improvise, or ran into something that thought swords or axes was the way to go. She'd check me over for injuries, and patch me up if I got hurt."  
  
"What about your family?" Mort's question was low, curious.  
  
"I never knew my dad. He was just… some guy that my mom dated a long time ago, someone that bailed on her after he knocked her up. After that, there was a string of bad boyfriends… Thank God I was an only child. Mellie showed up, and my mom was only too happy to send me off with her. That way, she didn't have to worry about me at all, and I wasn't costing her any more money." Faith could almost taste the bitterness in her voice, almost hear the remembered arguments. How her mother had blamed her for ruining her life, saying that if she'd never gotten pregnant, things would be better. The way that her mom would get so caught up in whoever it was that month that she'd forget about cooking, forget to feed her child. How she'd always known that she was unplanned, the bane of her mothers life.  
  
"Faith, it's… well, not okay, but you aren't that girl anymore. You're not your mother's problem, and it sounds like she had plenty of her own anyhow. You don't have to go alone. I might not have any clue what that demon tonight was, or any other particular demon, but I'm not going to abandon you." Mort was looking at her, his face solemn.  
  
Faith opened her mouth, half intending to brush him off, but then she stopped. He hadn't been trying to tell her that all was well, or trying to feed her a line to get a little Faith. He was just… Mort was just feeling as alone in this cruel, harsh world as she was. She was the only chance he had for any sort of company, the only person that wouldn't freak out about him being who and what he was. How was she supposed to deal with that? The single word that slipped out was soft, and she wasn't certain if he'd actually heard it. "Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome." Mort's own words were fairly soft. He then tossed her the blanket from her bed, which had fallen to the floor. "Might want to catch a little sleep, especially if you want to go out looking for more trouble tomorrow night."  
  
"You just want me to let you get some sleep after that demon and the whole pants thing." Faith smiled, feeling oddly comforted by the simple gesture.  
  
"I told you, he wasn't my type. Those teeth were much too big." Mort then turned out the little lamp, leaving the room swathed in murky darkness.  
  
Faith was still smiling about it as she drifted to sleep. It was odd, having someone care if she was okay, even if it was more from an intense desire to avoid being alone than much else. Although, a tiny corner of her mind whispered that just because they'd only met, that didn't mean that they might not care, might not end up caring very deeply.  
  
She knew that she was dreaming even as she walked down the hallway. It was dark stone, although the floor was covered in tiny stone colored tiles. There was a polished oak door, with a brass plaque reading Mayor Richard Wilkins. As she pushed it open, she noticed that her nails were painted a dark green that perfectly matched the leather pants that she was wearing.  
  
It opened to Dick's office, complete with the little office golf cup, and the painting of the ocean that he'd had on his wall for a while. He was sitting behind his desk, with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk. "Faith, how's my girl? Come on in, sit down. Have some milk, it's good for your bones, you know."  
  
Faith settled into the chair, accepting the milk and picking up a cookie. It was still warm, and larger than her outstretched hand, and the cookie started to bow as she lifted it. It was delicious. "Aren't you… sort of gone?"  
  
"Well, there's gone, and there's gone. I am dead, there's no denying that. But I still worry about you, Faith. Off on your own, with nobody to take care of you. It's just not right." He shook his head, looking remorseful.  
  
"There's Mort. He said that he'd stick around, watch my back for me." She looked over at him, a part of her still wanting him to like what she was doing. To win the approval of the closest thing that she'd had to a father, even if he had used her as his personal hit-man – would that be hit-woman?  
  
"Ah, yes, Mort. I've heard a few things about him. Worked with Magneto, didn't he? Now that's a character." Dick smiled, shaking his head as if amused. "You keep an eye on him. Young men are known for occasionally having immoral thoughts about pretty young women, and that certainly means you. I wouldn't want him to try to take advantage of you."  
  
"I'm not even sure if I'm his type. He might be gay." Faith smiled, wondering how much of this dream was real. Was any of it real, or just some weird series of images produced by her mind?   
  
"Nonsense. There's nothing wrong with a girl like you. He'd have to be a fool not to have noticed that much. Just remember to be careful – it's a very dangerous world out there. Filled with diseases and unhygienic situations and places. Like that motel you're staying in. Hardly a wonderful establishment." He sighed, taking another cookie.  
  
"Do I have another option?" Faith looked at him, a tiny corner of her mind wondering why her glass of milk wasn't running out.  
  
"Well, that depends. I did write you into my will, although I'd never really expected to need one. It was only supposed to be a mere formality, I was supposed to Ascend. If it's not all tied up in a legal dispute, what was mine should be yours now, minus the cut for death penalties and inheritance taxes." He looked saddened for a moment.  
  
"Oh." Faith blinked, wondering if that was real, if this was some fragment of Dick checking in on her. It sounded just like him.  
  
"Ah, that's not the point. It's good to see that you're keeping up with life. A lot of people would have just given up, thrown in the towel after Buffy turned on you like that. And there's something in the works to make her pay for that, I assure you. I'm just glad to see that you're still trying. I never thought you were a quitter, Faith. Keep it up." He smiled, reaching over to pat her hand.  
  
"Thanks." Faith smiled, feeling the world start to dissolve into gray as the sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds. Several shafts of light fell right onto her face, forcing her to wake up.  
  
She could still taste chocolate as she made her way to the shower.  
  
End part 7.  
  
There was a thumping on the door as she stood in front of the mirror. She'd been trying to figure out last night's dream-vision-thing. Had she really been talking to Dick? Where had the chocolate come from if she hadn't? Was he still watching out for her off… wherever failed demon mayors went when they died?  
  
The thumping came again. This time, it was accompanied by a few pleading words from Mort. "Faith… please get out of the bathroom."  
  
"Hang on to your pants, Mort." She smiled, feeling a little calmer just from hearing such a normal thing. Maybe it had been a visit from Dick, but she was still here, in this world.  
  
"Right, I've got them. Could you just… let me have a shower?" Mort's voice had more of that dry sarcasm.  
  
Opening the door, Faith discovered that he'd meant that literally. He was holding his pants and a shirt in one hand, clad only in the boxers that he'd slept in. His hair was a rumpled mess, and he had a couple bruises on his arms and one on his back as he ducked into the bathroom.  
  
Faith just sighed as she ceded the bathroom to Mort, chuckling at the tiny click of the hotel's flimsy bathroom door lock. It really wouldn't keep anyone out, but it might make enough noise to let them know. As if her life wasn't bizarre enough… Well, actually, this was more normal than things had been in a long time.  
  
She pulled on her clothing, carefully avoiding the leather pants. They were planning to go slaying later that night, she didn't want to get them ruined. Part of her mind was still trying to figure out what all of that had meant if it was just the product of her own mind. Was it a sign that she missed having somebody around to give her life direction? A sign that she missed Dick Wilkins and all of the stuff that had accompanied knowing him? Or maybe it just meant the pizza last night hadn't quite agreed with her?  
  
She started to comb out her hair, trying to figure out what to do next. The idea of not staying in this miserable place was a given, but which way to go when they left? North? South? State Route 73? Should she just make a list of every road out of town and pick one at random? With a sigh, she started to make that list. If nothing else, the idea of figuring out the options might make one of them more appealing. Or maybe shed get some sort of Slayer hint – trouble to the west, or big evil over that hill…  
  
"What did the table do that you're glaring like that?" Mort's voice sounded much more calm. Apparently, the time in the bathroom had been exactly what he'd needed.  
  
Blinking, Faith looked at him. He'd pulled on his pants, but not his shirt, and a few drops of water had fallen from his short hair to his chest. His nicely muscled chest. Standing there, still damp from his shower, without a shirt, he looked tempting. And apparently, she'd been so caught up in the question of where to go that she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. "Trying to figure out where to go when we leave this miserable place."  
  
"Makes sense. Considering those damn Bigots of Humanity, this definitely isn't the place to make home. What sort of options do we have?" Mot nodded, looking as if the memories of last nights encounter still annoyed him, or maybe previous memories of similar prejudiced encounters.  
  
"I've been listing out the roads leaving town. Maybe something will make one sound better or worse. Any tidbits to help?" Faith sighed, rubbing at her temple.  
  
"Well, I came in on that miserable bumpy road going south. Nothing of interest that way. And there's roadwork on the big road going east and west, what was the number? Forty seven, I think. If we eliminate those two from the list, does it help any?" He had a small towel, and was trying to get a little more of the water out of his hair.  
  
"Yeah, that should help some. How are those bruises feeling today? They don't look so noticeable…" Faith smiled just a little, appreciating the view. She might not know if Mort would even be interested, but he did look pretty good.  
  
"One benefit of being a mutant, I heal a little faster than regular humans. They've faded to a greenish that doesn't quite match the rest of me." His smile had a hint of bitterness to it. "So, where do we look for trouble tonight?"  
  
" There's a couple old buildings on the west side, out past the actual town. Creepy looking house, a couple old barns… They just sort of scream danger – don't come closer. Like something that should be in a horror movie." Faith was still trying to figure out if she was actually getting a Slayer feeling about them, or if she'd just seen too many horror flicks.  
  
"So, since they scream keep away, we're going to drop in." Mort shook his head, sitting on the bed. "This whole Slaying thing seems to be filled with things that aren't very safe. And you aren't even supposed to have someone to watch your back?"  
  
"Yeah, well… the Council sucks. Almost as bad as the vamps." She sighed, resting her head on her hand, letting the pen fall to the table top. "This whole thing… There will always be another Slayer, so they really don't care. Maybe the actual Watcher with the Slayer cares about her, Mellie cared, but… The head yahoos could care less. Probably don't even know the name of the current Slayer. Either Slayer."  
  
"Thought there was only supposed to be one?" He was untangling the laces of his boots, half looking at her as he did.  
  
"Well… I'm not the only one to not like the whole Stands alone bit. The other Slayer… Buffy. She was actually called before me. She has some friends. One of them went looking for her, found her after some old ugly vamp dropped her in a pool to drown. He gave her CPR, and bam - one not so drowned Slayer. But that meant that she'd been dead, for a few moments anyhow. Ended up with another Slayer, but she was all traditional, and went down. Then, it was my turn, and here I am." Faith sighed, hating the flare of jealousy that she felt every time she thought about Buffy. It wasn't for the blond Slayer's looks, but for the life she had, a great mom, loyal friends, a Watcher that was still alive… Yeah, it must be pretty good to be Buffy.  
  
"You don't have to be alone anymore. You have me. Told you that already, silly." He had a small smile, and had pulled his boots onto his feet, fingers busy with the laces. Of course, I'm no expert on naming demons, but… I'll go into danger and creepy old barns with you."  
  
"Hey, that's more than I'd expected before I came to this miserable town. We can manage without the books of demons. Got to. And I was thinking maybe… north and eastish when we leave?" Faith grinned, glad that she had Mort with her.  
  
"North and east it is then. After we go find out if there's anything mean and carnivorous in the old barns." He chuckled, as if the whole thing seemed a bit off for him.  
  
End part 8.  
  
"You're a bad influence on me. Convincing me to go looking for demons in old barns…" Mort's words were less than cheerful, but he didn't really sound angry as he followed her towards the first ominous looking ramshackle barn.  
  
"Ah, admit it, Mort. If you hadn't ended up here with me, you'd be bored." Faith's words were teasing, but she was trying to cover up the sudden pang of uncertainty and nervousness. What if Mort left? What if he decided that staying with her was too dangerous?  
  
"Yeah, well… no chance of being bored with you." He sounded a bit less worried. "Besides, if I'm here watching your back, you're here trying to watch mine. Safer than being alone, I think."  
  
Faith was trying not to laugh too loudly as they made their way through the fallow field to the barn. There was a thin path trampled through the weeds, possibly made by deer, but… Faith didn't quite think so. Suddenly, there was a flurry of wings, as a flock of things emerged from the barn. Small, fast moving shapes, flapping and screeching into the twilight. She ducked, unsettled by the flurry of wings and at the same time a bit embarrassed by the reaction. She thought that she saw something flicker downwards, but there were so many bats all around them, she couldn't be certain what it had been.  
  
"Gleeah… bats. Nasty…" Mort's voice sounded repulsed. "What else is in that barn? Bats didn't make this little path…"  
  
"Only one way to find out." Faith tried to sound confident instead of nervous, determined instead of a bit freaked out. Even the fact that she was the Slayer, with the whole destiny to do things like this didn't make creepy old buildings any more comfortable.  
  
They had barely made it to the door when a pair of shapes rushed out at them. The things were definitely not human, and definitely hostile. Lizard-like scales in shades of orange covered the things like armor. The first one was a sort of orange red, with a frill under the jaw that was almost the color of blood. The other was a lighter orange, with a soft yellow orange line of spikes down the spine, almost like an iguana. Neither one had a discernable sex, and they stood about Faith's height, with sharp claws and snapping jaws. The lizardy things split up, the one with the red going after Faith, while the other went towards Mort.  
  
"Careful, a lot of lizards have nasty germs… give you the sort of infection that could cost your arm." Mort's words were clearly a warning, and he paused, leaping upwards, rebounding off the wall in an effort to avoid wicked talons. "Assuming they don't just bite it off."  
  
"Wonderful. Hopefully a basic hack and slash should do it." Faith hardly had the breath for the words, busy trying to find an opening to use her axe on the red frilled demon.  
  
"That would be a lot more convenient." Mort's words were a little sarcastic. "I left my lighter back at the hotel."  
  
Faith was just about to tell him to stop with the bad jokes when the lighter demon caught his arm, claws sinking into his flesh before it hurled him into the side of the barn, the impact causing the wall to break, and Mort vanished into the darkness. With an incoherent shriek, she redoubled her efforts, leaving a number of bloody gashes along the darker creature, the scales not quite enough to prevent her from chopping into flesh.  
  
"That place is a mess!" Mort's voice was a bit angry, although there were undertones of what could have been pain. He was leaping over head, something long and sharp gleaming in his hand. Apparently, there had been sharp things hanging inside the barn, because with his first leap, the left arm of the demon was severed, and it hissed in pain.  
  
Now that they both had sharp instruments of slicing death, it wasn't long before the demons were in pieces on the ground. Faith stood over the bodies, her muscles aching, the small slashes from the claws stinging as she tried to catch her breath. "That was… not just a creepy old barn. That was definitely nasty inhabitants."  
  
"There were bones inside. Mostly animal bones, but there were a few… I think I saw a human skull." Mort's voice was low, as if he didn't want to startle her.  
  
"Nasty. I think it's a good thing we killed them then." Faith sighed, wondering if they should try to clean up the wounds now, or check the other buildings first. "Hey, Mort? Did we bring any bandages with us?"  
  
"Yeah. The antibiotics might be more useful, but we've got both." He shook his head, rubbing at his shoulder. "Just when those damn bruises were going away…"  
  
"Sorry about that. Hot shower on the massage setting… if that hotel has one of those. Ready for the next creepy old building?" Faith smiled, reaching out to touch his arm. He was okay, he hadn't been killed or maimed or run away in a desperate urge to be anywhere but where she was…  
  
"As ready as I get, I suppose." Mort offered a slightly crooked smile. "Should we hope the next one is empty?"  
  
Faith just grinned at him, feeling better. He was still here, still staying. Irritating as this whole insecurity thing was, it would be worse if she'd let him see how much being alone had bothered her. Even worse if he did leave. "It would make things simpler."  
  
End part 9. 


	4. parts 10 and 11

Her arm was burning by the time they finally made it back to the hotel room. Partly from exertion – the other barn had been empty, but a nest of vampires were… or rather, had been lairing in the farmhouse. They'd managed to take them out without any more serious injuries, but it had left them both bruised, and scraped a little, and sweaty. The sweat had managed to get under the temporary bandages on her arm, and the salt in it had turned the raw sting of the lizard demons scratches into a burning agony.  
  
"You go through first, I've seen how you keep rubbing at your arm. It's not going to help it, but a shower, ointment, and new bandages might." Mort looked tired, but mostly intact. He waved her towards the bathroom, swaying a little as he did. "I'm just going to go fall down. Wake me up if you need help with the bandages?"  
  
Faith sort of nodded, and made her way into the bathroom. The hot water felt good, almost but not quite intolerably hot as it sprayed over her sore muscles. God, had Slaying always been this exhausting, or was she still trying to get back into condition after her coma? The downside was the way that the soap stung when it got onto one of the many scrapes or cuts, causing her to swear and try to rinse it away.  
  
The room was quiet by the time she finished her shower. Clad only in a tank top and a pair of underwear, she peeked out into the semi darkness, wondering just why it was so quiet. Mort had stretched on his bed, laying on his stomach, his back probably sore from going through that barn wall. He wasn't moving, and there was a rhythmic noise, sort of a gurgling sound that emerged. "Guess he was serious about going over and falling down, poor guy looks exhausted."  
  
Edging closer, she pulled up the hem of his shirt, revealing dark mottled bruises and a few scrapes. That had to be painful, and had probably been the result of the barn wall. He hadn't really said much, which sort of made her feel guilty for taking him along. Was she going to get him killed helping her? But he'd said that he wanted to help, surely that meant she wasn't making him do something that he didn't want to, wasn't forcing him into danger.  
  
She settled into her own bed, wondering if sleep would come, and if it did, what she would dream about. She lay there in the darkness, her eyes trying to see swirls of color, hints of shapes. Twitching at every loud car, the occasional squeal of tires or creak of the floor in the hallway. Eventually, her tension ebbed away, and Faith slipped into sleep.  
  
Images danced through her mind, fragments of the past, wrestling the alligator of one particularly odd Master Vampire blending into the one real wrestling show that she'd been to – a taping of the World Wrestling Federation back when she was no more than twelve. A series of guys, trying to figure out why she seemed so confident, so certain of herself when they were sure that she was no more than a cheap tramp, the sort of girl that you go visit on Friday night and ignore Monday morning. Images of demons, which somehow twisted into another wrestling show, only this time, all of the wrestlers were demons, and there would often be blood and gore in the ring.  
  
Suddenly, there was a hand at her elbow, tugging her away from the arena. "You aren't supposed to be on the sidelines of life, Faith."  
  
She looked over, feeling intense shock at the sight of Mellie. Her hair, that sort of oak hued mass was in her habitual loose pony tail, a few wisps having escaped, shimmered with only the proper colors, untainted by blood or bone. Her hazel eyes hinted at good humor, but they were currently serious.  
  
"But Mellie, you're dead." The soft words emerged before she could stop them.  
  
Her watcher sighed, shoulders drooping slightly. "Yes, and I must say that it was a remarkably painful way to go. But death is not always the end, you've seen more than enough to know that already, my girl. The soul is not so fragile as the flesh. I can't be checking in all the time, but I wanted to have a few words. Just a little bit. I'm not allowed to stay very long, or I would stay much longer, but…"  
  
Faith gave her Watcher a hug, the tears prickling at her eyes. "I've missed you, Mellie."  
  
"I've missed you to, Faith." Mellie hugged back, her grip firm and hearty. "Now, as I said, you're a Slayer. That means you don't just stand by through life, watching things, that's for Watchers to do. You go out and do things. Help people, save them from dangers that hey can't fight."  
  
"Mellie, where do mutants fit into things?" Faith had to ask.  
  
"Well, the majority of mutants are humans, a couple random changes doesn't change that, sweetie. But… here's the important thing. Humans aren't the only species that hold mutations. You've heard about two headed snakes and albino squirrels, well… it extends into the demon circles as well. They can also produce mutants. And mutants can be turned into vampires." Mellie looked serious, and worried.  
  
Suddenly, they were walking through a grassy meadow, speckled with bright flowers. "It isn't the job of a Slayer to worry about evolution, or the political impact of mutants on society. You are supposed to protect the helpless from dangers that they aren't capable of fighting. This means defending mutants from vampires, or saving children from falling buildings if it comes up. It certainly doesn't mean listening to those yellow banded idiots who think that… well, I digress. You aren't quite like everyone else, Faith. Destiny has a purpose for you, and it wasn't to become the top hit-man of an aspiring demon. Remember that."  
  
She looked at Mellie, fearing to see disappointment in those eyes. "I'm sorry about that."  
  
"Faith, everyone has a few things in their past that they aren't proud of. I tried to run away from home and join a rock band once. We were terrible, or else I would never have become a Watcher, but I think the worst part of that was the god-awful haircut I had for a few months. It's happened, and we can't change it, but I hope that you learned a bit from it." Mellie looked at her, eyes sad, but lacking anger.  
  
"I think so, but Mellie, why did everything in Sunydale just…" Faith let the words falter, uncertain how to describe that nightmarish mess.  
  
"Into every life, a little rain must fall." Mellie's voice was growing faint, and her image was fading, the colors dimming, the whole image going translucent. "But Slayers were not truly intended to stand alone."  
  
"Mellie?" Faith woke up, her face damp with tears, reaching towards her watcher, the image of Mellie's face still dancing in her mind. "Mellie? Are you… ohh, Mellie…"  
  
But there was no guiding pool of wisdom waiting in the silence, no wry voice telling her exactly how to deal with the problems of her life. The only answer was the sound of Mort's even breathing as he slept.  
  
end part 10.  
  
Faith knew that she'd never be able to just flop back onto the bed and drift back to sleep after that. Besides, the bits of sunlight slipping past the blinds made it clear that it was actually daytime, so she could use that as an excuse not to sleep. Or more honestly, not to toss and turn on the bed, questions dancing in her mind as the bruises and scrapes pained her body. She pulled on clothing, and started packing their things, making certain that they had everything, not that that was a large collection.  
  
"Faith? What… is it time to go already?" Mort's voice sounded sleepy.  
  
She smiled at him, glad that she wasn't alone, glad that Mellie seemed to approve of her not being alone. "I think we can wait for you to have a shower. You smell like sweat, Mort."  
  
"Yeah, yeah… I can feel the love." He grinned, slowly climbing from the bed, fumbling for some clean clothing before staggering to the bathroom. "Any chance of you getting us some breakfast before we head for the hills?"  
  
"We can stop at that waffle place on the way out of town. This place is just… I've had enough, and we've killed all the baddies." She paused, considering that statement carefully. "We've killed all the demons and vamps, anyhow. Not supposed to kill the human baddies, that way is prison."  
  
The sound of the shower muffled his words a bit. "Waffles? Right, that'll work."  
  
After a last check to make certain they hadn't missed anything, they were out the door, fastening their possessions to the rebuilt motorcycle. Faith ran her hand over the dark gray metal, the faded leather of the seat. "All we have to do now is hope that it runs."  
  
"It will." Mort looked at her, his dark eyes intense. "I can do mechanical things, Faith. It will run."  
  
It did indeed run, and actually sounded smoother and more consistent than most motorcycles that Faith had heard before. It didn't have a deep, intimidating growl like a Harley, but it wasn't a little whining buzz like those pitiful little bicycles with an engine. Faith smiled against his back as she wrapped her arms around Mort. This was definitely better than Greyhound.  
  
They had breakfast, waffles and bacon and juice, savoring the meal and the fact that they didn't plan of fighting anything that day. Just… travel. "We're just going to go… I'll know when to stop. Sort of a feeling, you know?"  
  
Mort had nodded, swallowing a mouthful of waffles and syrup before he spoke. "It's occasionally good not to have a detailed travel plan. Keeps people from finding out and skipping ahead to ambush you."  
  
"There is that." Faith sighed, almost hating the fact that something like that was so probable in her life. She looked at him, not quite certain how to put it into words, but wondering if he had the same feeling. "Do you ever… Does it get to you? That we aren't trying to do anything wrong, and still…"  
  
"Yeah. They still hate, still fear, still go after us. I hate it. But there's not a damn thing that I can do to make it just stop. Maybe over time, but do we have that time? If things ever get so that different doesn't always gather fear, will we even still be alive to see it?" His eyes were full of questions and sorrow and old anger.   
  
Faith thought for a moment about the life of a Slayer, about all the dangers that they'd face, had already faced. "Probably not."  
  
"And on that cheerful note, let's get a move on it." He stood up, dropping some money on the table.  
  
"Sounds good, we're out of here." Faith slid out of the booth, feeling restless and sad and frustrated. Sometimes, people could just be so… But then, wasn't she the same way? Hadn't she pushed people away, ignored their advances? Maybe some of them had only wanted to use her, but Giles had only wanted to help, maybe Wesley too. And Willow and Xander had wanted to be her friends, even if she did feel like they were comparing her to B all the time. How would things be if she'd become part of the group?  
  
She shook her head, not wanting to get lost in 'what if's again. Mellie had been right – you can't change the past. It didn't matter how things could have been, they weren't. This was what she had to live with, and maybe it wasn't that bad.  
  
Soon, she was once again clinging to Mort, leaning against his back as the wind tugged at her hair and roared in her ears. All her worries and what if's were blown away, and for a brief time, all she did was just live. Just be Faith, and experience the moment.  
  
End part 11. 


	5. parts 12 and 13

They ended up stopping near a couple farmhouses after a something that was roughly the size of a deer but a distinctly blue color darted across the road in front of them, nearly causing them to wreck the bike. Mort was trying to keep them from disaster as Faith stared at the still shaking weeds where it had gone.  
  
"What was that thing?" Her question was filled with curiosity, frustration, and a sense of tiredness.  
  
"Not really sure. It moved like a deer, but that color… I'm going to make a blind guess that it was either a mutant deer, or some sort of demony thing." Mort's words reminded Faith that he was still new to the whole demon and vampire Slaying thing.  
  
Of course, Faith had really only considered one of those options before. Still watching the weeds where the blue thing had gone, the question emerged. "Are there any mutant deer? I mean, I've never really heard anything about mutants that weren't human. Or human parents, anyhow, there's a lot of fuss over that."  
  
Mort made a small noise. "Beyond the whole thing where albino animals are supposed to be some sort of mutation, and a couple things about two headed snakes in Arizona, I haven't heard anything definite about mutant animals. But if it can happen to humans, why not to animals? And since most human mutants have pretty much the same sort of diet as normal humans, and deer are plant eaters, that sounds good to me. Just a big, blue deer that won't attack us."  
  
"When you put it that way, it makes sense." Faith smiled, relaxing a bit from the whole surprise of the thing. "But do you really think it's that simple?"  
  
"It would be nice. But somehow, I'm getting the feeling that you want us to go traipsing through fields and trees looking for it, just in case its not a deer." He shook his head, looking at the bike. "We should find somewhere to stay, I want to make sure we didn't stress something a bit too much trying not to hit that maybe-deer."  
  
Faith sighed, part of her frustrated by the idea of being held up by mechanical trouble, and another part too busy worrying about the possible things that the blue creature could be if it wasn't a mutant deer. Something that size, well it would be bad if it was some sort of carnivore. "Right, a place to stay. That could be tricky, might as well start looking for temporary farm labor or something. Do people even still do that?"  
  
"You know, I'm not really sure about that. If it comes down to it, an out of the way barn would work. Of course, that assumes that nothing's already set up residence in it…" He let the words trail off, clearly remembering that pair of lizard demons.  
  
"That is a pretty important factor. I just can't deal with a roomie that's going to put me on the lunch menu." Faith grinned, hoping that things wouldn't be too much trouble.  
  
Mort laughed, kicking the bike to life again. "Now, while I might have a few odd things that I'll eat, you're just a bit too big to swallow. How about a movie instead?"  
  
Faith blinked, staring at the back of his shoulders for a moment before resting her cheek against his back again. That hadn't sounded entirely like a joke, it had actually sounded… well, almost like he was asking her out. Closing her eyes, she decided to try to imagine that, to see how the idea made her feel. Her body relaxed as she leaned against him, and she could feel herself smiling. Her and Mort… it could work. "Remind me next time we hit somewhere with a theatre. It sounds pretty good to me."  
  
Mort laughed, a sound of happiness and relief. "Sure thing. I'll hold you to that idea. And I think I see a maybe spot. That house."  
  
Faith looked at the house that he had to mean. There were quite a few tire marks in the yard, as if it had been used as temporary parking. Siding had been ripped off, and there was a pallet of roofing shingles near the house. A section of the roof had been covered by a tarp. "Yeah, that place looks like they might be able to use a little help."  
  
Mort pulled in to the driveway, and let the bike shudder to a stop near a short apple tree. It wasn't nearly big enough for anything large to be hiding in it, but they still parked a good ten feet away. Small things could still be dangerous. "Well, here goes."  
  
Faith walked to the door, feeling all sorts of worries go through her. What if this turned out to be a really bad idea? What if the house belonged to some prejudiced jerk, or a scary psycho like something from a horror movie? What if it was some leering slime bag? What if it was a house full of monsters? Granted, they could deal with any of those possibilities if they had to, but… She still worried.  
  
She pushed the button for the doorbell, waiting for some sort of response, or even a sign that the doorbell actually worked. Hearing nothing, she closed her eyes, counting to five before knocking on the door. Maybe there just wasn't a working doorbell.  
  
There was a short delay, and then she could hear the soft noise of footsteps. There was the sound of a chain rattling, and then the door was opened just a few inches. Those few inches revealed a single light blue eye, and a couple wisps of dark blond hair falling around a slightly freckled and nervous face. She looked maybe twenty five, and sort of pretty in a casual sort of way. "Who… I'm sorry, but Elijah Miller doesn't live here any longer. Is there something that you were looking for?"  
  
Faith offered what she hoped was a harmless smile. Her stomach growled at the scent of beef and bread that emerged through the narrow opening. "Actually… we were sort of hoping for maybe some temporary work and a place to stay?"  
  
The woman frowned slightly, and then looked past Faith to Mort. She looked a bit surprised, and murmured "Oh, my. A mutant. Did your family throw you out for having a mutant boyfriend?"  
  
Faith could feel herself blushing at the idea of Mort as her boyfriend, and a good part of it was because the idea sounded pretty good. She floundered for words, feeling flustered and suddenly overly warm. "I… it's… um."  
  
Mort came to the rescue with his words, and he did it in such a way that neither confirmed nor denied the woman's idea that they were dating. "There are a lot of people who don't like mutants."   
  
"Well, I'm not one of them. By any chance do either of you know anything about construction? Roofing, siding, plumbing?" She had a little smile as she spoke.  
  
"Not really, although I can put in a good deal of effort." Faith shrugged a little, feeling a bit of hope.  
  
"Actually, yeah." Mort shrugged at Faith's raised eyebrow. "I'm good at putting things together. All sorts of things. I can even do electrical wiring."  
  
"Thank God for that. I can offer room and board for a while. I just… my uncle recently passed away, and left me this house. Honestly, it really needs a lot of work." The door opened the rest of the way, revealing a perfectly unremarkable woman in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, with bare feet. Most of her hair was caught in a pony tail. "I'm Tanya Miller. Who are the two of you?"   
  
Something seemed to relax at the woman's calm welcome. Although the fact that she hadn't quite given a verbal invitation was interesting, it wasn't quite enough to raise questions. "I'm Faith, and this is Mort."  
  
The woman nodded, moving out of the entry room. "Well, I made stew and biscuits, you're welcome to have some."  
  
"Thanks, ma'am." Mort's smile made it look like Faith wasn't the only one looking for a bit of that stew.  
  
"Just Tanya is fine." She chuckled a little. "Ma'am sounds so formal. There really isn't much call for formality here."  
  
Faith smiled as she followed the woman. A place to stay, food, and someone who wouldn't freak out over her or Mort. Yeah, things were looking up.  
  
End part 12.  
  
It wasn't until after they'd both had seconds of the hearty stew, thick with beef and vegetables, the gravy sopped up with slightly odd shaped but tasty biscuits that Mort asked the question that had been dancing in both of their minds.  
  
"So, why are you okay with mutants? Not that I mind, but…" Mort had shrugged, as if to say that it was just a bit different than he was used to people reacting.  
  
Something like old pain flickered rapidly across Tanya's face. "Partly because of my uncle. He tried to judge people based on their actions, not their faces. The rest of it came from my brother."  
  
Faith had the feeling that Tanya didn't want to say very much. Something about her brother was painful. "Did he know a mutant?"  
  
"You could say that." Tanya sighed, moving her spoon around in her bowl. "My brother… let's just say that he took the idea of human mutant co-existence very seriously. And he believed in doing as well as saying. He… he's dead now."  
  
Faith considered those words, as well as Tanya's assumption that she and Mort were dating, with parents that had freaked. If her brother had been involved with a mutant, and things had gone… well, they'd already seen one lynch mob, another wouldn't be too far fetched to believe. "I'm sorry to hear that."  
  
Tanya gave a weak smile, her eyes a little bright, as if she was trying not to cry. "It's… well, there's nothing that can be done about it now. I'm afraid the two of you will have to share a room, not that that should be too difficult. A lot of the house isn't really livable right now. I'm still trying to sort out what I want to keep, what's trash, and what I want to sell or give away. My uncle had… well, stuff. Some of it was sort of odd, like a stuffed albatross."  
  
"Why on earth would anyone but a museum or maybe a biology teacher have a stuffed albatross?" Mort's question was almost too low to hear.  
  
"A very good question. And I have no idea why my uncle had it." The smile was a bit bigger now. "But that's just one example of what I meant. He had… stuff. Now, I get to sort through the stuff, and get the roof fixed, and some of the plumbing and wiring, and replace the bad siding, and… I have the feeling I'll find more things that need done."  
  
Faith giggled a bit, having heard about places like that before. "Well, one thing that I can do is haul stuff to a trash heap."  
  
"Chances are that there will be plenty of that. I'd like to get the roof done first, if possible. That way, I won't keep getting water inside when it rains." Tanya had a sort of distant look, as if her mind wasn't on things in the kitchen. "Once I have a solid roof and the outside walls… plumbing, wiring, and new paint. Yeah… I can make this place work."  
  
"Did your uncle have any technical books? Things on electrical wiring, or machinery?" Mort spoke softly, his eyes looking hopeful.  
  
"My uncle's library is… strange. It has some old historical looking books, things in German and Latin and some other languages that I can't recognize. A lot of stuff that seems like really dry horror novels. I don't think there were any books on wiring, but…" Tanya gave a small shrug, but she looked as if she knew more than what she was telling.   
  
Something stirred, a sort of half formed suspicion. "Can we see the library? Maybe there will be something useful…"  
  
"Well, I don't see how it could hurt anything. Just put the dishes in the sink, and follow me." Tanya stood up, a faint look of puzzlement on her face.   
  
She made her way up a narrow flight of stairs, nibbling a bit at her lip. "Careful, the banister wobbles. Yet another thing on the 'needs repaired' list for this house… there's another set of stairs, but the wiring over there is bad, and the lights aren't reliable."  
  
Just a few feet from the narrow stairs was the library. Dark wood shelves were filled with leather bound books. The scent reminded Faith almost painfully of her time with Mellie. Moving into the room, she touched one of the books, part of her mind walking through her memories. Looking at the shelves in front of her, Faith expected her dreams to be chased away by things like Frankenstein, Dracula, and old dead poets. Instead, she found herself staring at a copy of 'Whitmore's Compendium of Woodland Demons.'  
  
"My God, your uncle was a Watcher." The words slipped out in a stunned whisper. Faith could think of no other explanation for these books.  
  
"Should I be worried that you know what a Watcher is? I only know a few things about all of it, enough to make me worry." Tanya's voice was soft, filled with grief and a hint of anger. "It was his whole life, and the Council back in England that gave him his orders just sort of… abandoned him."  
  
"Yeah, the Council's good at abandoning people." Faith didn't have any way or reason to argue that idea. As far as she was concerned, the Council sucked, but individual Watchers might be alright. Mellie had been, and the same could be said about Giles. But the Council hadn't been there for Mellie, or for Giles over the Hellmouth, and they certainly hadn't been there for her.  
  
"So, you've had an encounter or two with them." Tanya seemed to relax a little. "Do you have any idea what view the Council has on mutants? If they even have one…"  
  
"Not a clue. Umm… I think I might be looking at some of these later, if that's okay." Faith tried to curb her emotions. This was sort of an opportunity, and sort of a risk. There were the books, compendiums of demons and threats, probably a few volumes of prophecy. Everything that a Slayer could need to figure out what nasty things lurked. But… but how would Tanya react if she knew?  
  
  
  
"Of course, go right ahead. I can't even read most of them anyhow." Tanya made a little waving motion towards the books. "You might as well follow me, the only other usable bedroom's just down this hallway."  
  
End part 13. 


	6. parts 14 and 15

Faith and Mort followed Tanya down the hallway, and looked at the room. Soft brown carpet covered the floor, and there was what looked to be a large closet and a massive dresser that looked to made from some dark wood, maybe walnut. A queen-sized matching bed with a brown and gold comforter and fluffy pillows was along one wall, and there were thick golden curtains that entirely covered the window. The whole room looked slightly old fashioned, and conveyed the impression that it was intended for guys that dropped by. Possibly other watchers.  
  
Mort dropped his duffel near the closet, opening the door to peek inside. "Should I ask why there's a spear with feathers tied to it in the closet?"  
  
Tanya just shrugged. "Uncle was probably just meandering around with it, or maybe one of his friends was looking at it and just figured the closet was convenient. Either that or he was afraid that he'd be attacked in his own house. I've been finding weapons all over, from a mace in the pantry, a crossbow in the downstairs bathroom, a sword in the coat closet, and a set of throwing daggers in the basement… There's probably more scattered around."  
  
Mort touched the spear, his shoulders slumped just a little. "It sounds like being a Watcher is pretty dangerous. Faith's told me that vamps need an invitation to come in, but I'm betting a lot of things don't. Maybe he was afraid. Especially if the people telling him to go watch the demons didn't bother to do more than say 'Watch you head' after that. They can be… scary."  
  
"Does that compare them to the Friends of Humanity?" Tanya was watching, her eyes sorrowful.  
  
Faith shivered, remembering her own introduction to those people. Hiding under masks and trying to kill some frightened kid… That was just wrong, and scary. "It's not the same. They're a different sort of scary."  
  
Mort turned, leaning in the closet doorway. "Faith's right. The anti-mutant people are scary when they're a mob, or if you think about the long term. But if there's just one of them right there, it's not the same as having a giant, man eating lizard with claws right in front of you. Demons are a lot scarier as individuals than humans, even humans with bad ideas."  
  
"I try to avoid the demons altogether." Tanya's voice was soft, and she shivered a little. Was it from fear or the slight chill in the upstairs? "Anyhow, the pair of you can stay here and help me fix the house for as long as you want. Let me know if there's anything in specific that I should pick up for groceries, and I'd really like it if you let me know before you leave."  
  
Faith shrugged, thinking that she really couldn't have asked for much more than this if she could describe the ideal place to rest. "Sounds fair enough. Oh, umm… could you get some chocolate chip cookies?"  
  
Tanya chuckled, suddenly looking almost maternal. "Of course I can get chocolate chip cookies. There's also vanilla ice cream and cocoa mix downstairs. You have to add the marshmallows separately if you want them, but I have a couple bags of the little ones that are just perfect for cocoa. There's never enough marshmallows in the cocoa that comes with them already inside…"  
  
As Tanya left the hall, walking back down the little stairway, Mort came over to stand beside Faith. His voice was soft, full of questions and a little bit of wistful hope mixed with amusement. "She thinks that we're… a runaway couple."  
  
"Yeah, but why's that seem funny?" Faith looked at him, realizing just how close he was standing. She could feel his presence, even if he wasn't radiating a lot of body heat. "Something wrong with the idea of being my runaway boyfriend?"  
  
"Not that I can see." His eyes were focused on her, and they seemed very dark and mysterious all of a sudden. "I just wish that things really were that simple."  
  
Faith sighed, letting herself lean back against Mort. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine things differently. If she was just a girl who'd had to run off with her mutant boyfriend. If she didn't feel the weight of destiny grinding her down, the shame of failure and the guilt from what had happened in Sunnydale. She just couldn't quite picture it. "I can't even see it. I can't even see myself as a normal girl. Someone who hasn't… who didn't mess up that badly. Someone who thinks a terrible thing would be wrecking the car, not accidental manslaughter."  
  
Mort's arm wrapped around her waist, and he leaned his head on hers. "Normal's overrated, Faith. We'll manage this, together. You don't have to be alone anymore."  
  
Faith smiled, her eyes still closed. One hand came to rest on Mort's arm, enjoying the closeness. It felt good to have someone with her. Not just another body hanging around, but someone who was there for her. Someone who cared. "Thanks for that, Mort."  
  
End part 14.  
  
After stowing their few things into the closet and the dresser, they explored the house a little bit. Faith wanted to know where all the exits and possible points of entry were, just in case something did try to come after them. Mort went with her, both to know the escape routes, and because if he was going to be fixing things, he needed to figure out just how bad they were.  
  
After walking a ways along a third floor hallway, Faith opened a door, wondering how many rooms could possibly be there. She abruptly threw her weight backwards, her eyes wide as she stared through the door at the sky. "Who in the hell puts in a door to the outside on the third floor?!?"  
  
Mort put a hand on her shoulder, looking at it as Faith tried to regain her composure. "Looks like a pretty solid door. It's even got a couple inches there on the outside."  
  
"And the reason for it being there is what? Who could even use it?" Faith felt a little better now, having settled her stomach after the lurching shock of open air instead of a hallway or the floor of a room. It still seemed almost unnatural, and it almost felt like a trap.  
  
"I could, if it wasn't locked." Mort's voice was pretty calm. "Of course, this house looks pretty old, maybe even a century. Kind of makes you wonder why the door is even here. I don't think there were a lot of mutants that long ago."  
  
Faith looked over at him, seeing the thoughtful look on his face. "You could really use this door? As in, from the ground, to the door, and into the house? But… but… that's just…" She looked back outside. "This is the third floor, Mort."  
  
"I know. Mutant with super jumping abilities, remember? When danger rears it's ugly head, I demand to know who took Sabertooth's beef jerky… oh, wait, not that." Mort paused, half smothering a chuckle. "If it's something that I can't fight, I run like hell and jump for something high."  
  
Faith wanted to protest the idea, but she'd seen some of Mort's jumps. They were impossible looking. It was amazing to see, and gave her an idea how someone might feel watching her do some of the more demanding things. "I guess there are worse strategies. But I still don't get why that door's even there."  
  
"The good news is that the roof over this part is in pretty good shape. Floor's pretty solid, just all these mostly empty rooms. I've got to agree that her uncle had a few odd ideas. Unless maybe he didn't want to be going up the stairs all the time." Mort ran his fingers through his hair. "Shall we go figure out what our working orders for tomorrow are? Or do you want that to wait until morning while you sneak out to figure out if that was or wasn't a deer?"  
  
"Hmm… let's figure out the plan first. Maybe Tanya knows if anyone's been spotting mutant wildlife in the area before." Faith smiled, feeling better as Mort closed the door, locking it with the little chain and catch.  
  
By the time they found Tanya, she was sitting in the kitchen, wrapped in a large fuzzy robe, holding what looked like a steaming mug of marshmallows. Her bare feet were peeking out from under the robe, with purple painted toenails. Setting the mug on the table, she gestured towards a cupboard. "Hey you two. I have more mugs, and the kettle has hot water if you want some cocoa."  
  
Mort walked over, pulling down two mugs, and adding a couple heaping spoons of cocoa mix and a handful of marshmallows to one mug before looking over. "Faith? A few or a lot of marshmallows?"  
  
"Lots." Faith smiled, remembering for a moment Joyce Summers, and her sweet if a bit misguided idea that a mug of cocoa and marshmallows and a sympathetic ear could solve anything. "Tanya? We found… this weird door, and it seemed… entirely weird. What's up with the door to the great outdoors on the third floor?"  
  
Tanya blinked, for a moment looking a bit confused as she held her mug of cocoa. "Door? What door… oh. That door. I asked my uncle about that once, years ago. Apparently, this place was built by some eccentric guy that believed in both grand entertainment and ghosts. He was afraid that someone would die inside the house, and their spirit would be trapped, and unable to leave, so he had a door put in for them. And eventually, he died, his son inherited, lived here for about forty years and then sold the house to Uncle Elijah."  
  
Mort looked over, having sipped his cocoa. A ring of marshmallow clung to his lips. "Did anyone ever die here?"  
  
Tanya looked over at him, giggling a little. "Marshmallow mustache… There are some napkins over by the sink… But more seriously, yeah, there were some people that died in here. One of them was the guy that built the place. Neither uncle Elijah or myself have seen anything to make me think the place is haunted."  
  
Faith snickered a little. "Yeah, but you have to watch that first step."  
  
Tanya chuckled, stirring her cocoa just a little. "I know. I used to wonder if that's what he'd do with unwelcome visitors. Just show them to the door… Maybe there just aren't ghosts, or maybe none of the people who died here had the right circumstances to become ghosts if they are real, but… There aren't any here."  
  
"I've talked to a couple people that ran into some ghosts, so they are real. But as for why there aren't any here… who knows, maybe the door really works." Faith shrugged, sipping at her own cocoa. It was almost too hot, and tasted sweet from all the marshmallows, making it utterly perfect. "But it still looks pretty silly."  
  
"Well, maybe a little… or a lot." Tanya sipped at her cocoa, licking off the bits of marshmallow. "Anything else you wanted to ask about?"  
  
"Well… yeah. On our way in, we almost hit this thing jumping across the road. Didn't really get a good look, just big, blue and jumpy. Any ideas what it was?" Faith asked, her mind wondering if the blue thing would be dangerous.  
  
"Oh, you mean Binky. One of the local kids tried to make a pet out of an injured deer a couple years ago, a pregnant doe. She dropped a pair of twin fawns, and one of them was blue. Binky's never acted differently than any other half tamed deer, but I guess she would be pretty startling." Tanya smiled, looking as if she was thinking of pleasant memories. "I spent that summer here, and I saw Binky as a little baby… just adorable."  
  
Faith blinked, considering the idea. A mutant deer. If there was one mutant deer, it was possible that there were more, or maybe mutant rabbits, or squirrels, or… Or mutant demons. But a mutant deer that acted like a normal deer was no problem at all. "Yeah, Binky gave us both a bit of a surprise."  
  
End part 15. 


	7. part 16

Tanya let Faith have time to think, while making certain that Faith knew that she'd be willing to listen if Faith wanted to talk to her. Not that this meant Faith was just idling about, there was a good deal of work needing done on the house. Old shingles and rotten roofing materials were ripped free, thrown to the ground to later be hauled to a pile. Faith found the work physically tiring, but it did give her time to think. About her choices, about what exactly was a Slayer supposed to do, and about Mort.  
  
Yeah, she was thinking a lot about Mort lately. Not just the fact that he had some nice muscles on him, and was pretty nice to snuggle up against – which she kept pretending that she didn't know she was doing. Not just the fact that he seemed to be a fairly decent guy under the layer of distance that he tried to keep from 'normal' people. Not just the way his knowledge of things electronic, structural and all sorts of other build it yourself –al words. She kept thinking of the way he smiled at her, like she was someone special just for being Faith. She kept smiling at the thought of snuggling up against his back, resting her cheek against his spine.  
  
And she kept thinking about that comment that he'd made, about seeing a movie together the next time they were in a town with a theater. The idea was sounding pretty good, actually. Just her and Mort, a dark room… oh, and several hundred other movie-goers as well. Well, maybe she should try taking things a bit more slowly this time. It would matter with Mort, if things went well or badly, and not just about sex.  
  
As Faith tossed another batch of rotten shingles towards the ground, she tried to consider what to do. This was… different from anything in her past. She knew how to let a guy know to take her to bed, or to back off, but… this was more like a date. She'd never ever asked a guy out on a normal date before. Maybe… maybe Tanya could help?  
  
Looking at her arms, Faith grimaced. She was an utter mess, covered with dirt, and tar, and dust. Hopefully, they would be done for the day, and then she could go have a delightful shower and feel human again before delving into strange territory with her questions. Of course, how to ask Tanya when she seemed to think that Faith and Mort were already an item? That might take a little thinking.  
  
Faith stayed in the shower until the hot water was little more than room temperature, trying to get the mingled scents of tar and decay and dust out of her skin. She still wasn't quite convinced by then, but the prospect of scrubbing away under icy cold water was rather unappealing. Throwing on some clean clothing, Faith made her way to dinner, hoping to be able to talk to Tanya under the pretext of helping with the dishes.  
  
Her chance came after Mort made his way back upstairs, muttering that it 'might be a good idea to read up a bit on the nasties.'  
  
Faith glanced at Tanya, carefully carrying the dirty plates to the sink. "umm… Tanya? I was wondering… not that it's not great that you're letting us stay, but… it's sort of… I was thinking it might be nice for Mort and I to do something… together and.. well, not workish. Except… I'm not quite sure how to say it to him without it sounding awkward, or dumb. I've never really been the one doing the asking before..."  
  
"It's not that hard, Faith. You catch him when he's not too busy, and say 'Let's go out. Maybe a movie.' The pair of you could borrow the car and go over to town, there's a theater. You can have some time to just enjoy each other's company." Tanya smiled, looking as if she was remembering a few dates of her own.  
  
"Sounds…. Simple enough, if I can just get the words out." Faith sighed, feeling distinctly uncourageous at the moment. "Thanks, Tanya."  
  
Walking out of the kitchen, Faith started thinking about how to ask Mort on a date. Should she ask while he was in the library reading? Later, as he was getting ready for bed? Maybe tomorrow, while they worked on prying up some rotten floorboards in on of the empty rooms? Maybe a plan was over-rated, maybe she should just look for a good moment and seize it.  
  
  
  
The light was on in the library, so she slipped through the doorway. He was leaning against the wall, looking like he'd started out looking at a book while standing there, and gradually slid down the wall until he was half squatting half sitting there, open book in hand. Mort turned the page, shifting the book at an angle for a moment, probably studying an engraving. "Now that's just not right…"  
  
"There you are." Faith smiled, dropping to sit beside him, hoping that she didn't look as nervous as she felt. "I've been thinking… you said something about a movie. Why don't we… you know, go catch one? Tomorrow?"  
  
He blinked, the book slipping from his hands to fall a few inches to his lap. His dark tongue flickered over his lips, as if they had suddenly gone dry. "A movie? Like a date. You're serious?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm serious." She looked at him, reaching over with one slightly trembling hand to clasp his fingers in hers, holding just firm enough that she couldn't see the shaking any more. "I mean, if you still want to go on a date with me…"  
  
Mort turned, looking at her with his eyes serious and hopeful. "I'd like that a lot. I like the idea of going out with you, having you as… as my girl."  
  
"Your girl, hmm?" Faith smiled, suddenly feeling better, more confident. A warm feeling seemed to be spreading from the hand that he was now holding through the rest of her, and she wasn't entirely certain that she wasn't blushing.  
  
Slowly, she leaned forward, part of her nervous, another part whispering to seize the moment. Her lips brushed against his, almost tentatively, brushing against him again, parting just a little as they met his lips. He kissed back, slowly, gently, as if he worried that she would change her mind, as if he feared rejection even now. His hand was running through her hair, the book fell to the floor with a thump, and they pulled back, startled, hearts beating faster, eyes dark as the air flowed rapidly over parted lips.  
  
"That was…." Mort looked as if he couldn't quite find the words, a small smile on his face, on those kissable lips.  
  
"Yeah." She reached over, brushing one finger over his lips, smiling as his eyes closed and he leaned into her touch just a little. "That was nice."  
  
End part 16. 


	8. parts 17 to 19

Faith was all hopeful and almost giddy that night. The idea of starting a relationship with Mort…. It felt good. Not the sort of good like going into a fight that she knew that she would win, but good in a way that was hard to describe. Nervous, hopeful, anticipation, and these warm shivery butterflies all combined with the memory of that kiss. She was looking forward to things unfolding, or blossoming. It was the first time that she could think of any relationship with a guy that she might be tempted to just smile into space and think about sappy poetry.  
  
Mort was different from the other guys that she'd been involved with, and not just because he was a mutant. She wasn't entirely certain why, although a part of her wondered if maybe Xander back in Sunnydale might have been a decent guy if… but things hadn't gone that way. No use dwelling on what could have been. Xander could as easily been a jerk as a decent guy, and she had no way to know. Xander didn't matter now, Mort did. Mort was… Mort was a nice guy, with a sense of humor, and he wasn't afraid of the fact that's he was the Slayer. Maybe he didn't realize everything that went along with that, but he didn't seem to be upset about it. Maybe he figured she could tell him more or not at her choice, or maybe there was more to his mutation than the green and the jumping, but… she didn't think there was any reason to worry.  
  
Mort was there still, with this little smile on his face, and a sort of dreamy look, as if he was still lost in hazy happy what could be's, or else the kiss had affected him just as much as it had her.  
  
"I don't want to rush into things. For once, I want to try to do things right, to have a chance that this can last." The words were half whisper, half plea, and part prayer.  
  
Looking at her, Mort put one hand on her arm, a bit below the shoulder. "I don't want… I'm not going to try to rush you. You could probably flatten me if I did." He smiled, teasing her just a little. "But this… I want this. I want us."  
  
"Yeah… I want us too." Faith smiled, relaxing a bit. She hadn't thought he was the type to push for things, but it was good to be proven right. "Doesn't mean we can't be a bit more snuggly though."  
  
"Snuggly… sounds good." There was something in his eyes, relief? Had Mort had girlfriends before? Wouldn't the women he'd met have to have been pretty silly for all of them to pass him up?   
  
Faith tugged at him, leading him out of the library to the room, hoping to get a bit of snuggle time. There were a lot of silly people in the world. Maybe he hadn't… which she could deal with. She could show him how a few things were done. "It's been a long day, we should get some rest. I'm hoping we can go have a nice, normal evening out tomorrow."  
  
"A nice evening out… I don't think I've ever had one of those." He shook his head a bit, looking as if he was exaggerating his puzzlement just a little. "Think we can manage? You don't seem to be terribly practiced at normal either, Faith."  
  
"Well… maybe not, but we can try, right? Can't we go out, and just… sort of pretend that everything's normal for a while, no big destiny that comes with an impending doom, nobody hating the idea that you look a bit different, just… time to be together and relax?" Faith smiled hopefully, sitting on the bed.  
  
"We can try, but it doesn't change the world." Mort shrugged, sitting beside her and taking his own boots off. "Wait a minute, what's this about impending doom?"  
  
Faith sighed, letting herself lean over, resting her head on Mort's shoulder. "Well, you know I'm the Slayer. But there's a lot about that I didn't go into. There's only supposed to be one, although it turns out that there's two right now. One Slayer is Chosen when the previous one dies. One girl in all the world to fight the vampires, the demons, the forces of darkness. Generally, they fight alone. And die alone. Most Slayers don't make it past eighteen, Mellie couldn't find any records of a Slayer living past twenty five., and that one… that was a long time ago."  
  
"Well then, that settles it. You're not going to fight the forces of darkness alone. I'll help you. Maybe we can find others willing to help you. If they all go alone, and die, it sounds like something's not working right." Mort wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. "If something doesn't work right, or there's a better way, change things. That's the idea behind progress. Evolution too, I suppose."  
  
"Progress… I guess so. I hadn't thought about it like that." Faith smiled, feeling comfortable against Mort. He'd said before that he wouldn't leave her alone, but it just felt so good to hear it again. To know that someone would be there for her, be there to watch her back.  
  
End part 17.  
  
If Faith had dreams, she didn't remember them. She woke slowly, feeling comfortable, her cheek resting against Mort's chest and her arms around him. He'd held her, and they'd kissed a few more times, but nothing more. Oddly enough, that had seemed like enough, like there wasn't a burning need for more to feel connected. It was the first time that she'd ever woke up wrapped around a guy and felt like smiling because they were both in the bed together. Granted, they'd slept in the same bed since they'd got here, but it wasn't quite the same. Then, he'd just been a friend, not a boyfriend, not really. Now? Things were different, better.  
  
"Mmmm. Is it morning already?" Mort's voice was a bit thick, as if everything wasn't quite awake yet. One hand reached out, groping for the blanket, and when his questing fingers found it, he pulled them up with a slight jerk, covering their heads. "Don't want to get up."  
  
Faith smiled, resisting the urge to laugh. Her fingers moved over his ribs, light touches that could have been teasing or ticklish. "We do have to leave the bed eventually. There's this little matter where we're supposed to work for all that great food that Tanya's been giving us."  
  
"True. But I don't have to like it." Mort sighed.  
  
Faith moved, stretching and yawning. Honestly, she would much rather stay snuggled up with Mort than do work herself, but there were responsibilities. That and the fact that the bed, nice and comfortable as it was, was not the bathroom. "Life's full of things that you don't have to like, but they are."  
  
With a small noise, Mort slid out of the bed, yawning as his feet hit the floor. "Doesn't mean I can't try to change some of it."  
  
"Good point." Faith nodded, thinking of a couple things that could use changing.  
  
They spent several hours working on the roof, and by the end of that time, they'd finished ripping away the old shingles, and had placed protective tarps over a few places where the roof needed some more serious repairs than simply the shingles. That would be a job for another time. The rest of the workday was spent carrying stacks of shingles and boxes of nails up to the roof, placing them near where they would be needed. No reason not to get as much preparation done as possible, after all.  
  
"What type of movie do you want to see, anyhow?" Mort asked, shifting a box of nails so they wouldn't slide off the roof.  
  
"It doesn't even really matter that much. Nothing in the horror category, this is supposed to be time away from normal life. Probably not something about a woman and her relationships, I just never really got into most chick-flicks." Faith was trying to think about that, wondering exactly what they would end up watching.  
  
"I can deal with that." Mort sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "I've never been a fan of chick-flicks either."  
  
"Probably because you're a guy… or at least, that's your easy, built in excuse." Faith smiled. "Maybe there's a good action movie?"  
  
"That sounds pretty good. I'll even let you go shower first, as long as you don't use all of the hot water." He grinned, smiling at her. "I can get directions to a theater from Tanya."  
  
"Deal." Faith's smile was almost too big. The whole thing sounded good – a shower, a trip somewhere with Mort, and a nice movie. She found herself wondering if they'd take the motorcycle.  
  
She managed not to take too long in the shower, and changed swiftly into something a bit more presentable for their date. The leather pants, because leather pants were always good. And Mort liked the way they looked on her. One of her nicer looking tops, and a jacket with a concealed knife and stake, because you never knew what would happen. She wanted the night off, but that didn't mean that she would get it that way.  
  
Faith then made her way downstairs, knowing that Mort would want the chance to shower as well. It might be nice to just sort of sit and enjoy the nice weather for a while, and they wouldn't be leaving before he was done anyhow. She didn't have a lot of chances to just relax and smell the flowers… what sort of flowers were they anyhow? Definitely not roses.  
  
It didn't feel like very long before Mort was there, grinning at her. "Ready to go to catch a movie? We'll have to take the motorcycle…"  
  
Faith smiled, hopping to her feet. "That's not a problem, I like the motorcycle."  
  
They made their way into the theater, having decided on the action movie instead of the comedy. Holding cups of soda and a bag of popcorn, they prepared to enjoy a night off, just relaxing to two hours and fifteen minutes of fights, car chases, and explosions. It didn't matter that this was the sequel to a move that neither of them had seen, it didn't matter that it might well start in the middle of the story. They weren't really there for the plot of the movie anyhow.  
  
They ended up laughing at the dialog and picking apart some of the fight sequences, enjoying themselves immensely. The popcorn vanished at an amazing rate, and they held hands, ignoring the salt gritty grease of the buttery flavored topping. They were together, and having fun. And in the darkness of the theater, not only could nobody notice the greenish cast to Mort's skin, they couldn't stare at the pair of them kissing.  
  
They were still in a good mood as they made their way out of the theater, laughing about the final fight, delighted by the explosions and that fact that they'd been entirely safe the whole time. Such a welcome change from their usual violence.  
  
Climbing on the motorcycle, they started through town, figuring they'd just go back to Tanya's place, which was starting to feel a lot like home, and relax. Maybe they could stretch on the roof and watch the stars.   
  
Unfortunately, that idea was shot down when they headed south on a little street. There was a cemetery, and from it, Faith got a familiar sensation. There were vampires nearby. "Mort! The cemetery… it's not as dead as it's supposed to be. Pull over."  
  
"So much for having the evening off." Mort sighed, pulling the bike off to the side of the road.  
  
Faith frowned as she saw the dark sedan that was also pulled off in front of the cemetery. Who visited cemeteries at night? It was a short list, and didn't have anything particularly cheerful on it. "I don't like this."  
  
"Neither do I." Mort's voice was low.  
  
End part 18.  
  
Faith could feel herself slipping from a more normal walk to a predatory stalk, half crouched as she followed the stomach tightening sensation of vampires. Judging from the feel of the air, there wasn't anything too powerful, but she could feel several minions nearby. Minions didn't just sprout from the ground like mushrooms, there had to be a master somewhere.  
  
Faith and Mort took them down almost before the minions had time to notice hey weren't alone anymore. Faith had staked one immediately, and Mort had impaled the second with a slightly pointed cross carrying a bedraggled wreath of wilted flowers, and both the minion and the wreath disintegrated, falling to the ground with a faintly hissing patter. The third minion had time to swing a single punch, easily blocked before he was also dust.  
  
"They looked like they were heading somewhere." Mort's whisper barely carried, but that was enough.  
  
Faith nodded, wiping the dust from her stake as she looked around. There had to be something here to attract their attention. A pale glow to the right caught her eyes, and with a small gesture, she began moving that way, slowly, carefully. There was a bit of a feeling, like a presence, but she couldn't quite identify it. As she got closer, Faith could hear voices.  
  
"I don't understand. What makes this one different from any other possible new vampire? Why are you so…" This speaker had the local accent, and sounded maybe fifteen years old. "You seem uneasy about this one."  
  
"Lorrie, you don't need to understand all of this, that's why I'm here. A Slayer, which you may one day become, Slays, and it is up to the Watcher to understand, and to help you with the identifications." This voice belonged to an older man, with fading remnants of a British accent and the sort of oozing arrogance that made Faith grit her teeth and remind herself that Slayers were NOT supposed to kill humans.  
  
"But this is different. I can't… I don't know how to describe it, but there's a different feel to this grave." Lorrie sounded like she was trying to explain her unease, and failing.  
  
"True, this one is different. I was just hoping…" There was a pause, and the light shifted a bit. "I wasn't certain, not at first, but you do seem to be confirming my fears. This one, this potential vampire… He was a suspected mutant."  
  
"Which would make him…. I didn't know that mutants could be turned." Lorrie sounded nervous. "What did he do?"  
  
"I don't know. There wasn't any information. It is imperative that you stop him before he can become an even greater menace. Bad enough that he was a mutant, but a mutant vampire would be an abomination, an unparalleled danger." There was thick distaste and fear in the man's voice.  
  
"Sounds like a card carrying bigot." Faith could barely manage to keep from spitting towards the Watcher. She winced as she remembered that she was fairly certain that she was even supposed to protect people like that. Maybe she could be a bit slow, wasn't she still reforming? There was a man sitting on a headstone as a girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen stood nervously beside the heaped pile of earth that meant a new grave, the strips of grass having either fallen or been kicked aside.  
  
"Is that an official policy or just him?" Mort sounded just as unhappy as Faith felt.  
  
"Tanya's uncle didn't feel that way. Mellie didn't feel that way. The two Watchers I met in Sunnydale…Neither of them actually said anything about mutants that I know of. I think it's just this asshole." Faith was still frowning, almost hoping that the soon to rise vampire would eat the Watcher. Unfortunately, he had the girl standing over the grave while he sat several headstones away. She couldn't tell much about the girl, her skin looked darker than Faith, but not too dark, and she seemed to have short dark hair. She was in a pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt, a stake clutched in one hand, but held like she knew how to use it.  
  
"Think he's going to get eaten?" Mort's question sounded almost hopeful.  
  
For a moment, Faith let the image play across her mind, finding it… not quite as satisfying as she'd expected. "We got rid of the minions. And he'd got the girl between him and the grave, so it's probably unlikely."  
  
There was a shifting of the clumped earth, and a hand emerged, with wicked talon-like claws instead of the normal dirt encrusted nails of a new risen fledgling. When the figure had finally hauled himself out of the earth, he was tall, with broad shoulders and short yellow hair sticking almost wildly up. He was undeniably a vampire, and snarled at the girl with sharp fangs.  
  
"Why am I thinking of Sabertooth?" Mort's dry whisper held humor and unease all at once.  
  
Faith found herself wondering about that herself. Mort had mentioned Sabertooth before, saying that the mutant had been another follower of Magneto, and something about him being big and carnivorous. But she wasn't certain how that connected to a vampire.  
  
Snarling, the vampire lunged towards the girl, most likely hungry and angry. She moved, evading his claws and spearing the stake into his chest. She was trembling as the vampire dissolved. "He's… dead now."  
  
"Good. You have just prevented a terrible abomination from menacing the world." The man stood up, rubbing his hands together as if he'd actually done something. "Now, let's go back to the car and go home."  
  
"It didn't feel that different… but he was… he was a big guy. Like linebacker big." The girl shook her head, trailing behind him. "Shouldn't it have felt different if he was that dangerous?"  
  
"Mutants are dangerous. Don't you ever forget that! Maybe we need to watch the Magneto Trials again…" The man's voice faded as he walked away, imperially certain the girl would follow him.  
  
Faith shook her head, unable to find words that were suitably insulting for that man. "Uggghh. I'm just glad that Mellie wasn't anything like that. Dick wasn't even like that, and he was evil."  
  
"Don't kill him, Faith. Prison's not worth it, someone else will take care of him. With an attitude like that, he's sure to have enemies." Mort put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her around for a hug.  
  
"Don't leave me, Mort. Just… don't leave me." Faith held him tightly, tears leaking from her eyes as she pressed her face against him. She wasn't even certain who the tears were for – the now dead vampire mutant, the poor girl stuck with that ass for a Watcher, for herself, for Mellie, for the world… She didn't know. Right now, it didn't matter.  
  
End part 19. 


	9. part 20

Faith and Mort worked hard on the roof for the next few days, and finally managed to get that finished, ending the problem of water leaking in from above. Not that this was anywhere close to the end of the work needed, but it certainly felt like something to celebrate.  
  
"Why don't the two of you go out for dinner somewhere, maybe a movie afterwards? Sort of a celebration?" Tanya's suggestion had just a hint of something else to it, as if she was trying to get them some time alone together for romance.  
  
Faith could feel herself smiling as she looked over at Mort. "A night out… just the two of us?"  
  
He smiled, brushing his fingers over her cheek. "Sounds good to me. I think there was a Chinese place in town…"  
  
"Sounds good. All we have to do is make ourselves presentable, and then… out to town." Faith felt like bouncing with a mix of glee and anticipation, but restrained herself. She was wondering if she had anything that would really catch his eye…  
  
In the end, she settled for the leather pants and a gauzy little top that she borrowed from Tanya, worn over one of her tanks. It looked… good, seductive without looking too easy. Mort's reaction was everything that she could have hoped for. His jaw literally dropped, and she could have sworn that she saw a little bit of his dark tongue fall out, just a little bit. Sort of like those 'oh, Wolfy' cartoons from years and years ago.   
  
"I guess you like what you see, hmmm?" She almost purred the words, smiling at him as she walked closer.  
  
Mort swallowed once, his lips moving soundlessly. Finally, a few words scraped through, sounding almost hoarse. "I like… It's good… wonderful."  
  
Tanya just laughed, and literally sent them out of the house, making little shooing motions with her hands. "Go! Go out and have a nice dinner. Take a walk in the moonlight. Kiss each other, have fun. Take your time about it."  
  
They both giggled the whole way to the motorcycle, their hands having somehow found and clasped with each other. It felt… it felt like she was a balloon, filled with helium and cut free, allowed to float up and away. She slid behind him on the motorcycle, snuggling close against him with a soft sound of contentment.  
  
They ended up holding hands through most of dinner, and feet kept sliding along legs in clear flirtation. Faith had a few ideas forming about how tonight could go, and they were definitely… steamy. And if Mort was so flexible when Slaying, how flexible was he in bed? She hoped for the chance to find out…  
  
They rose, dropping money onto the table to cover the meals, and slipped out the door, their bodies practically touching, hands sliding over backs. They kept stopping to kiss as they made their way towards the motorcycle. Faith couldn't believe how everything seemed so intense, so much. Her whole body was tingling, and they hadn't even done anything more than kiss!  
  
Naturally, that was when something went wrong. They were practically flattened by a large something running into Faith, moving rapidly to the west. The kiss was broken, and hands had to fall from each other to prevent them from kissing the parking lot.  
  
Faith glared at the large demon running into the distance. Such a perfect moment, ruined by some big demon. "I think somebody needs slain."  
  
Mort was glaring at it, his breathing a bit fast. "Oh, I'm in complete agreement. Has that oaf no sense of timing?"  
  
Faith chased after the demon, wanting to kill it, to make him or it pay for interrupting. Granted, the parking lot wasn't the place to actually get naked with Mort, but still… they were having quite the moment there, until nearly getting crushed by that big thing. Hands on, personally administered death penalty for interrupting… and she was even supposed to kill troublesome demons. It didn't even occur to her to maybe take the motorcycle.  
  
The chase ended up in an orchard, the air thick with the sickly sweet scent of fruit that had fallen to the ground. The large shape of the incredibly rude and soon to be dead demon was clear ahead, and Faith ducked down, grabbing a mostly hard roundish shape. The apple flew forward, hitting the running shape. Faith threw a couple more, wishing that she had some knives to throw instead. She'd finally found a sweet and great guy who wasn't gay or already involved, and just as she was thinking that she might get some… trampled by a demon. Uggh!  
  
Ahead, she could see two shapes, walking through the trees. A man and a woman, moving slowly. But not lovers or would be lovers, not standing that far apart. The demon was heading right for them, and it suddenly hit the man, sending him flying into a tree with a dull scream and a cracking noise.  
  
"Menace to everybody else as well." Mort's voice sounded not quite pleased.  
  
"Right. You check the guy, I'll try to keep it back for a few moments. Maybe the chick can help him if he's…. if he can be helped out here." Faith almost said if he was hurt, but anybody thrown that far into a tree… there would be injuries at best. Assuming that he'd even survived.  
  
Faith pulled the knife from her boot, lunging at the demon with an angry shout. "Hey! You ruined my evening! I had plans!"  
  
Turning towards her, the thing growled, with little beedy dark eyes and a huge round mouth with rows of teeth and a this trail of drool emerging on one side. Raising arms that were as big around as her waist, it swung a huge fist at her, clearly intending to make her evening even worse. It was big, and strong, and it smelled rather like rotting fish.  
  
Suddenly, the thing was knocked to the ground, Mort crouched on it's shoulders for a moment before leaping up, just in case it tried to grab him, which it immediately tried, another growl emerging. Now they were both dodging the huge fists, and the occasional tree branches that wild blows sent crashing to the ground.  
  
Eventually, between Mort clubbing it in the back with a tree branch and Faith then slitting it's throat almost deep enough to see the spine, they took it down. She debated a little dismemberment as an outlet for her frustration, but decided maybe not in font of a witness… maybe two.   
  
Faith looked up to see the chick, no more than a girl, really. She was half crouched, not cowering, but in a defensive stance. Dark hair had partly escaped from a ponytail, and she wore a sweatshirt with Tweety bird on the front, and a wooden stake held in one hand. She was staring at the dead demon, looking caught between fear and relief.  
  
Suspicion bloomed in Faith's mind. "You're… you're Lorrie, the Potential Slayer, aren't you? How's the stuffy Watcher?"  
  
"He's… it knocked him out cold. And then the two of you… killed it. How did you know…." She looked at the two of them, questions in her eyes.  
  
"Saw you in the cemetery the other night." Faith sighed, shaking her head. "He's got to be the lamest excuse for a Watcher that I've ever encountered."  
  
With a sharp gasp, Lorrie looked at her, eyes wide. "You… but how did you… did you have a Watcher? Are you another Potential Slayer?"  
  
"My Watcher got killed a few years back." Faith looked at Lorrie, deliberately not mentioning that she wasn't a Potential, but a fully active Slayer. "You… if you've got a cell phone, you might want to call an ambulance for him."  
  
Faith heard Mort's disgusted mutter even if Lorrie didn't. He glared at the fallen Watcher, " Prejudiced cold hearted bastard. Serve him right to be left out as vampire bait."  
  
"A cell phone… yeah. Rather, I don't , but he's got one." Lorrie moved over, pulling something from the pocket of the unconscious Watcher. Her hands were shaking as she flipped it open, nearly dropping it before she managed to dial for the local ambulance.  
  
Faith sighed, leaning against a tree. Much as it might delight her to leave the useless Watcher out for any wandering nasty, Lorrie probably wouldn't leave him. The guy was an ass, but that didn't mean that Lorrie should suffer for it. Of course, the whole mood was broken to little bits. Damn.  
  
End part 20. 


	10. parts 21 to 23

Faith sighed, trying to rub at her shoulder where it had been slammed into the pavement when the demon had first interrupted her and Mort. She'd been too busy to notice it earlier, but it ached. Hopefully just a bruise, it didn't feel painful enough to have been dislocated. Her stomach was still feeling a bit unsettled from the foul stench of that thing's breath, so she moved a bit, leaning against an apple tree. She could see Lorrie talking into the cell phone, one hand gesturing as she spoke.  
  
Mort walked over to stand beside her, frowning a little. "Is your shoulder alright?"  
  
"It hit the pavement back at the restaurant. Doesn't feel good, but not bad enough to have been dislocated… I just can't get a decent massage in." She frowned, trying again to reach the pain.  
  
"Let me help you with that." His words were soft, and one hand slipped up under her jacket, carefully massaging her shoulder.  
  
"An ambulance is supposed to be on the way over now." Lorrie's voice carried over, filled with questions. "What… I know that was a demon, but I don't know what type. How did the two of you… why were you chasing it? How did you manage… umm… and thanks."  
  
Faith looked over at Lorrie, a part of her wondering if she'd ever been that young herself. She had to have been the same age, but… age wasn't always the same thing as youth. "I don't know what type it was either, other than big, rude and ugly. My boyfriend Mort and I were walking across a parking lot when that thing knocked us over."  
  
Mort looked over at the demon's corpse. "Funny thing… It almost seemed like it was running away from something else when it knocked Faith and me over."  
  
Faith felt herself shiver slightly. She hadn't thought about it, but Mort was right. Even stupid demons didn't just go charging across parking lots for no reason. Which meant that there had been a reason, most likely something that the demon had been trying to run away from. What could have scared that hulking thing, and how long before she found herself having to fight the scarier thing? "Yeah… well, we were both rather annoyed that it had nearly trampled us, so we chased it. Damn interrupting demons… Anyhow, we caught up to it here, it… well, I guess you saw what happened. A fight, we won, the demon's dead."  
  
Lorrie moved a bit closer, peering at the two of them, as if she was trying to memorize their faces to ponder later. Her gaze settled on Mort, her eyes going wide. "So… How did you manage to kill it? Are you… umm… Mort's a mutant, isn't he?"  
  
"I am. Pretty useful for avoiding demon fists and claws." Mort's voice had that carefully almost flat tone that said he was trying to stay calm.  
  
"umm…." Lorrie shifted her weight from foot to foot, her eyes sort of glancing all over. "I haven't had much contact with mutants. I've heard things, but… the things I've heard sometimes conflict."  
  
Faith shook her head, her mind heaping curses and insults on that miserable excuse for a Watcher that Lorrie had been assigned from the Council. "See… the main point to remember is that mutants are still people. They didn't have a say in how they were born, just like you didn't have a say in being born with the potential to become a Slayer. Some are decent people, like Mort, some are really angry and want to do something about it, like Magneto, and some are batty old ladies who live in a house full of cats. Except that the batty old lady might naturally have blue hair, instead of a bad dye job."  
  
"But the things in the paper…" Lorrie looked confused, and then stopped. "But you don't see much in the paper about anyone who lives a nice, quiet life, do you? You don't hear about the couple down the road who raise seven kids on one income, and they're happy, or the person putting themselves through college by hard work. You hear about the people who mess up, or have amazing luck."  
  
"Bingo." Mort's voice held a hint of bitterness. "You also don't hear too much about the nasty things humans do to mutants either. Just the other day, we bumped into a group of people in hoods trying to kill a kid with purple hair. Turned out the kid's hair was dyed, but that wouldn't have kept those bastards from killing him. Just because he looked a bit different. Think that would have made the news?"  
  
Lorrie sucked in a breath, looking shocked and horrified. "But… they were going to kill him? Ohh….."  
  
"All sorts of wrong." Faith nodded, wondering just how much that Watcher had let Lorrie know about the world. Did she get to watch the television? How many channels? Read the paper, or maybe just sections of it? Or was she stuck with nothing more than stacks of demon books?  
  
"What about… is there anything about different about mutant vampires?" Lorrie looked vaguely uneasy, possibly remembering the other night in the cemetery.  
  
"From what I've heard, the main thing is that they still have all their mutant abilities plus the usual vamp package. So, a mutant vamp's still a vamp, but they might have… oh, I don't know, striped hair and the ability to fly." Faith shuddered at the idea. "Or they might be just like any other minion except they have polka dots. Someone told me that mutants could be turned, just like anyone else, so I should watch out for that. Nothing else. No big prophecies, not big… just… oh, be careful."  
  
Lorrie's arms wrapped around her, and she stared at the ground, her toe nudging an apple out of a tuft of grass. "Yeah, be careful sounds good. A lot better than 'there's a grave menace, kill it.' But I still don't see…"  
  
The sound of wailing sirens could now be heard, and there was a flicker of flashing lights. "The ambulance is almost here. Just think over what we said. And be careful, especially in cemeteries."  
  
Lorrie nodded, turning to walk back towards her Watcher. "Yeah… lots to think about."  
  
Faith took Mort's hand, and started to walk away, not wanting to get caught up in the mess of the ambulance, and the inevitable questions of what the demon was, or why Lorrie and the jerk had been out walking in the orchard. She just wanted to go home.  
  
End part 21.  
  
"So, that's more of the down-side to this whole hero thing. Not only do you get bruises and scrapes and claw wounds from giant lizards, you get hulking demons interrupting your dates, and you can't dismember them in front of witnesses. On the up side, we aren't under arrest." He shook his head. When he continued, there was a low, persuasive tone to his voice, almost pleading. "Are you absolutely certain that as people mostly on the side of good, we can't go make sure that guy dies? Nobody will ever miss him. I can make the body vanish."  
  
Faith giggled, absurdly tempted by the idea. "It's tempting. But… but… they took him to the hospital. If we follow and finish him off, that's premeditated murder, possibly caught on camera, and they send you to prison. That's probably close to being in a coma for being a miserable place to be. Maybe we can just hope he overdoses on pain medicine."  
  
"I knew there had to be a downside to this hero thing." Mort grumbled, one hand holding hers as they walked back towards the restaurant where they'd left the motorcycle.  
  
"Yeah, well… actually, the pay isn't too good either. But you can sleep better at night." Faith smiled a little, peeking at him.  
  
"Do I get to snuggle up with you?" His words were soft, almost as if he didn't want to push too hard.  
  
She grinned, pulling him closer, sliding her arm around his waist. "Definitely."  
  
"That might almost make up for the brand new bruises. Now, if only…" Mort shook his head, apparently deciding not to finish whatever he'd been about to say. "Maybe we can try for a date again, and hope for no recurring demonus interruptus?"  
  
Faith laughed, glad that Mort could find a little humor in the situation. "That sounds good. Or maybe we could send Tanya out somewhere and stay in? Or… well… I suppose we can't kick her out of the house so that we could… damn. I must be getting shy in my old age."  
  
Mort chuckled this time, one hand sliding under her jacket to run a little bit up her spine. "Maybe we can just work on getting a few of those more remote rooms fixed up? Then, we would only need to make sure she stays on the other side…"  
  
Faith laughed, part of her delighted that Mort seemed as upset by the interruption as she felt, and another part just a little worried that it might be too soon, that if they did have sex, everything would change. That Mort would turn out like the other guys that she'd known and leave her, or just turn into a jerk. But Mort wasn't like anyone else that she'd met, Mort was different. Hopefully better, and she didn't mean in any sort of genetics type way. "Well, we have to start something next, why not walls?"  
  
They were almost back to the restaurant when Faith felt the vampire. She didn't see it, or hear anything obviously out of place, but she could fell the presence, a cold spot in the area, sort of but not quite like someone holding an ice cube near her bare arm. Not close enough to touch, but she could feel it. Whoever the vamp was, they felt old, and powerful – most likely the master vamp whose minions had been in the cemetery. Maybe even the something that had sent the big demon running into them.  
  
"Mort… do you see anybody… off? Sort of weird or too pale?" She leaned over, whispering into his ear, hoping that any observer would just think she was making him naughty promises.  
  
"Pair of Goths outside the coffee shop sharing a cigarette, there's lady looking like the mom from a sixties sitcom across the street, and a guy in a varsity jacket carrying a couple big, thick books." Mort shrugged. "Weird isn't quite enough. Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, I guess it's not enough." Faith shook her head, feeling more worried than before. If the vamp was clever enough to blend in with the people, then they were smart enough to cause major problems if they wanted. The real question was – what did this vamp want? Maybe they'd need to talk with Tanya tonight, ask for some local history, like old ruins, Indian burial mounds, or mass killings. And she'd probably need to confess to being the Slayer… a Slayer anyhow. "I think this is going to be a long night. And not in the good way."   
  
"I'll give you a massage later." Mort rubbed his hand over her back again, nodding slightly. "At least nobody stole our bike while we were gone."  
  
"Yeah. We would definitely have had to go kill that jerk if he cost us our date and the bike." Faith sighed, not quite certain if she was joking or not about killing the Watcher.  
  
"For just the date, we can let someone else have the pleasure, but if the bike's gone, we can go kill him?" Mort chuckled. "Anyone ever mention that you've got a wicked sense of humor?"  
  
Faith grinned, suddenly swinging around and kissing him, flicking her tongue over his teeth just a little. "Not the sort of compliment most people give me. Ready to go home?"  
  
"Absolutely." The keys to the bike were produced almost instantly.  
  
Faith smiled as she snuggled up against his back, feeling the vibration of the motor running through their bodies. The interruption frustrating, the fight had been annoying, and the feeling of some vamp watching her absolutely creepy, but this was good. Snuggled up to a hot guy on a bike… Yeah. And maybe she could put off thinking about sharing her secrets with Tanya for a little longer.  
  
End part 22.  
  
Faith started trying to figure out the plan when they turned onto Tanya's road. If this was going to go at all smoothly, there should be some sort of plan, a how to go about this. But it had to be flexible enough to deal with Tanya's reaction. So, how to get organized but not scripted?  
  
"Faith, sweetie, relax. Please. I think you're gripping a little too hard there." Mort's voice sounded a bit strained. "Things won't be that bad."  
  
"How can you promise? What if she hates the fact that I didn't tell her before? What if the idea of something scaring the demons makes her freak? Or the presence of some master vamp is the last straw, and she tosses us out?" The words rushed out as the horrible possibilities spun in Faith's head. She didn't want to think Tanya would do any of those things. She liked Tanya, and had started to feel good about staying here.  
  
"Because if Tanya was going to freak out, it would have been when she learned that you knew what a Watcher was. Anything else, we can figure out a way to handle." Mort's voice was calm, and he had a little smile.  
  
Leaning forward, he kissed her, gently, but with enough persistence and emotion that by the time they broke apart, Faith was smiling, her stomach doing happy loops and her knees wobbly. "Wow, you do know how to make me stop worrying."  
  
Mort just smiled, still holding her arm. "Time to go inside."  
  
Faith sighed, allowing herself to lean on Mort as they made their way to the house. She shouldn't be this nervous. Mort was right that they could come up with a plan, so then why was she worried at all? She could feel the bits of the answer in her mind, almost but not quite connecting. She gathered her courage and opened the door, stepping inside the house, which was filled with the scent of baking chocolate chip cookies.  
  
Tanya was in the kitchen, peeking into the oven, as they walked inside. Closing the oven door, she stood up, looking over at them. "I didn't expect the two of you to be back yet. Did something go… not as planned?"  
  
Faith sighed, letting herself drop into a chair. "Yeah. Our date got interrupted by a big demon, and I felt something… I think a master vamp watching us. It's trouble."  
  
Mort settled in the chair next to her, taking her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back. "Something scared the big demon, and it ran. Then Faith felt the vampire, but we didn't see any particularly likely candidates. She's pretty sure that means trouble."  
  
"Oh dear." Tanya leaned back against the counter, right beside a big mixing bowl with a wooden spoon sticking out. "How did you know the vampire… umm. Why do I get the feeling there's something you haven't mentioned?"  
  
Faith sighed, looking at her hand. "I'm the Slayer. I know about the Council because I used to have a Watcher, but… Mellie got killed. And the Council… nobody else cared about Faith, they just wanted a Slayer to follow orders and forms and stupid traditions."  
  
"Well, that would explain sensing the vampire at least." There was a pause, and it sounded like Tanya had lifted her mixing bowl, although Faith didn't quite feel brave enough to look. "I've been going through Uncle's books, trying to get a better understanding of the whole Slayer thing. Is there anything that I can do to help?"  
  
Mort grinned at Faith, still holding her hand. Very softly, he whispered "I told you it wouldn't be that bad."  
  
Faith smiled at him, and then looked over at Tanya. "Maybe. If there's a master vamp here, then there has to be a reason why. Something that caused a powerful vampire to come to a little town. Maybe some old ruins or artifact, or… well, something. Maybe a ritual. I guess… I guess it's time to do research, to try to see if we can figure out why a master vampire is here."  
  
Tanya was spooning out balls of cookie dough, her hands trembling. "That… does sound reasonable. To find out what the goal is. I guess this makes it a good thing that all of Uncle's books are still in the library."  
  
Faith realized how much Tanya was shaking, realizing just how scary the idea of demons and vampires had to be for someone who'd had a normal life. "You don't have to do this if you don't want."  
  
Tanya looked over, wiping at her cheek for some reason, leaving a little smear of dough. "No, Faith, I want to help you. This… what you do… It's important. You help keep the world safe and here, even if that just means other people go try to make a mess of it. Honestly, yes, there is a part of me that would like to just… crawl under the covers and pretend this isn't real, that it would all go away. But I know that it won't. If I help you… then I'm actually trying to make a difference in this world. A lot more of a difference than just recycling glass bottles and trying not to waste the hot water. And… well, it sounds a lot safer to look for things in books than to be the person trying to fight the demon. I don't know how to fight a demon, or anything else."  
  
Faith smiled, feeling as if the crazy spinning images of possible disaster had been slowed down. Maybe she still would have to fight the master vampire, maybe there would still be something dreadful that she had to stop on a deadline, but… but she would have Mort and Tanya supporting her. She would have a place to stay, reliable food, and someone to massage the knots out of her back. "That's good. More than most people would do."  
  
"None of us are 'most people'. He's not most people, or most mutants, or most guys, he's Mort. You aren't most people, most girls, or even most Slayers, you're Faith. And I'm Tanya, who's… well, not a mutant or a Slayer or a trained watcher, but I'm still going to help. All you can do is be Faith, and be the best Faith that you can, and since that includes being the Slayer, I'll try to help you be the best Slayer possible. And then I'll hope that it doesn't get me killed." Tanya sighed, putting the cookies into the oven with trembling hands.   
  
"I don't want you to get hurt." Faith's words were quiet, as she tried to understand why Tanya would be so willing to help.  
  
"I'd sort of like to avoid that myself." Tanya smiled a little bit. "But Faith, everybody dies eventually, and when my time comes, I want to be able to face God and know that I did my best to make a difference."  
  
Faith considered that, and to her slight surprise, the words felt right. If Tanya wanted to help, it should be because she decided it, for her safety, for God, if that was her reasoning. Just as long as it was her choice, and not because a bunch of guys in suits told her to do this. "Hopefully, your face to face with God can wait a long time."  
  
End part 23. 


	11. parts 24 and 25

Faith smiled, feeling Mort's arms around her as she woke up. They'd gone to bed, and snuggled up together. There'd been a little kissing, and some explorative touches, but they hadn't rushed into anything. Mainly, it had been comforting. A reassurance that they weren't alone, that they were attractive, that life would go on. And now, she could wake up in his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest, one arm around her shoulders. It was a good feeling.  
  
"I know that you're awake." His voice was low, almost inaudible.   
  
"Shhh… I'm savoring." Faith could feel herself smiling.  
  
"Savoring, hmmm?" He chuckled, his hand rubbing a bit on her shoulder. "How's the shoulder feeling now?"  
  
"Better now." Faith stretched, resigning herself to being awake. "I sort of wish that things had gone a bit differently last night. No demonus interruptus, no running into that nasty excuse for a Watcher… just me and you."   
  
"Mmmmm." Mort nodded, shifting his position just a little. "I've been having that idea all night. Unfortunately, we did get interrupted. Our night out did get derailed."  
  
Arms wrapped around him, Faith just leaned against Mort, thinking about how things might have gone. She moved her leg just a little bit, and then… well… Well. Apparently, not only was Mort also thinking about how things might have gone, but his muscles weren't the only part of him that was impressive. For a moment, Faith froze, wondering what to do, how to react. It didn't feel like it was time to take things to that level yet. She found herself looking into Mort's eyes. "ohhh."  
  
"Ohh, indeed." He leaned down, giving just a tiny kiss. "Maybe I should go have a shower now? Especially since we don't need Tanya to hear… everything. Or anything, for that matter."  
  
Part of her wanted to keep him here, to take the moment to find out if he was really as flexible in bed as he was out of it, if he was as impressive as her thigh thought he was. But… Another part was still hesitant about this new thing between herself and Mort. Still trying to believe in him, not as someone to watch her back, but as someone to watch her heart. "We'll have to try that out some other time."  
  
Mort had to be smiling from the way his words sounded. "Really? I'll hold you to that."  
  
Had he deliberately used the same words that he had when he'd asked her to a movie? Was it a deliberate reminder, or just the way he naturally spoke? Either way, it gave her this warm and tingly feeling. Her words sounded a bit husky as she spoke, thickened by lustful half thoughts and imaginings. "Sounds good. You go shower, I'll see what's for breakfast."  
  
Faith pulled on some clothing, and then made her way downstairs. Faith definitely felt like she was retreating. But this wasn't the sort of thing that she'd want Tanya to hear, no eavesdropping – voluntary or not – for her sex life, thank you very much. Of course, if Tanya were to have something come up to take her away fro a while… oh, the images that brought up.   
  
"Morning, Faith. How does scrambled eggs sound?" Tanya sounded as if things were back to normal with her.  
  
"Sounds good. So… You're okay about the whole Slayer thing?" She grabbed some plates, setting them out on the table. "I mean, you seemed a bit freaked out last night."  
  
"It was unexpected. So is the idea that there's a master vampire here. And… everything. But, I don't have to be the one to fight the vampire. I can't make the idiot training the potential Slayer – was her name Laura? I can't give her Watcher a clue. What I can do is make certain that you remember to eat, that you and Mort know there's someone here who does care." Tanya sighed, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee nearby. "I don't like the idea. Slayers tend to get killed, and I'm getting pretty fond of having you around. But you're the Slayer, whether I like it or not, whether you like it or not. So, why not do what I can to help you? I couldn't find anything in particular that a vampire might want though. No ancient ruins, no Indian burial sites, no stories about scary old witches living in the area… nothing."   
  
"Maybe it's in one of the books?" Faith offered the suggestion with no enthusiasm. "Maybe knowing who the vamp is would help us know what they want? Except that I don't know… Maybe I can grab a minion and try to get them to talk."  
  
"How dangerous is that?" Tanya looked worried.  
  
Faith wanted to reassure Tanya, wanted to tell her that it was perfectly safe. But that wouldn't be quite true. With a sigh, she offered the truth. "It depends on how good the minions are. If they know how to fight. If they can make a plan and keep it. How many there are."  
  
"Well… since I'm not an expert, might I just suggest that you take Mort with you to watch your back? And try not to go somewhere that you could be ambushed." Tanya sipped at her coffee, looking unhappy.  
  
"Yeah. I like having back-up. I like not being alone out there." Faith sighed, and decided to pour herself a cup of coffee as well. "And the girl… he called her Lorrie. Of course, he could always get killed, either dying from that demon tossing him into a tree or getting killed by those minions."   
  
Tanya looked at her, and sighed. "We probably shouldn't be wishing bad things on someone. And if he's really as bad as you make him sound, I'm sure it will catch up to him."  
  
Faith just chuckled, considering the many ways that things could catch up to that miserable man. Then, she sipped at the coffee again, deciding that she'd rather think about her man. It would be far more enjoyable to think about Mort, his great smile, buff muscles, and that consideration for later.  
  
End part 24.  
  
They spent a good deal of time in the afternoon dragging trash into a large pile. Tanya had grinned as they tucked bits of paper and the most hideous old carpet into gaps on the pile, and then she'd splashed some old gasoline from the lawn mower over top of it. They'd all watched as Tanya lit the fire, starting the bits of paper on fire. It wasn't long before one of the paper flames came into contact with the old gasoline, and while it no longer had quite the oomph needed to power a motor, it burst into flame quite nicely.  
  
The carpet started burning next, sending up both huge clouds of black smoke and the most horrible stench. Apparently, it wasn't just ugly carpet, but rank, nasty, ugly carpet. Tanya shuddered, one hand trying feebly to wave the smoke and stench away. "Urgg… I should have known that nasty thing would find a way to ruin anything. Even it's own cremation."  
  
"But it's burning, even if it is under protest." Faith chuckled, stepping a bit farther to the right in an effort to avoid the smoke. "Why don't you go inside, have a shower or something. Figure out how we can try to learn what the old toothy one is after… I don't even know if the Master I felt was a guy or not. I mean, there are female vamps. This could be one."  
  
"Do you run into very many?" Tanya looked a bit curious.  
  
"Not too many. Most vamps tend to be guys… even the minions. Maybe it's because they think the guys would be a bigger, stronger body to throw between them and their enemies. Maybe it's chauvinism. Maybe they just don't see the point. Or maybe the female vamps are just a bit more clever, and don't get caught as often. They can be every bit as vicious, ruthless, devious and scheming as the guys." Faith replied, thinking over the vamps that she'd fought over the past… well, in her time as a Slayer. It felt like the past year, but she had missed a big chunk of time.  
  
"Works that way with mutants too. Most of the older ones deliberately making trouble are guys. But there's just as many scared little girls as scared little boys." Mort shook his head, scowling slightly. "Of course, the two most devious mutants I met… one's a guy, currently in prison after his master plan was thwarted, and… I have no idea where Mystique is."  
  
"You can't check the news? If she's as much trouble as you make her sound…" Tanya looked thoughtful.  
  
"We might very well have seen her in the news. Or on the street. Or anywhere. She's a shape shifter. She can look like anyone. She could look like you, or like Faith. She could look like your lawyer. She could look like me, but I doubt that she'd see any point to it." Mort kicked a stone, sending it flying into the fire.  
  
"Maybe I should just hope she stays away. It sounds like we've got enough to worry about here anyhow." Mort sighed.  
  
Faith paused, something nagging at her mind. Somehow, his mention of Mystique and a guy that had to be Magneto had reminded her of it, but what could it be? They had enough trouble with that unknown master vamp, and that inept, bigoted Watcher… Wait, it had to do with him, or something he'd said. Back at the graveyard… "The Watcher-jerk was all freaked out about that new vamp. The one that was supposed to be a mutant. What if the big vamp isn't after a thing, but a person? What if he's out to gather a private army of mutant vampires? All the vamp strength, plus any nifty tricks they may have from genetics at play?"  
  
Mort and Tanya tensed, looking at her with wide, unhappy eyes. Tanya rubbed her hands over her arms, looking as if she very much wanted to be inside now. "That's… a frightening thought. Vampires are scary enough when they're simply stronger, faster and want to eat you. If they can also… vampires are bad. And mutation changes the rules."  
  
Mort put one hand on Tanya's back, sort of an effort to sooth her, or possibly to be reassured himself. "Mutant vampires? Does that mean this vamp would be deliberately hunting for mutants? The idea… scary, especially since there is so much variation in what mutants can do."  
  
"As far as gather-an-army plans go, it's got a lot in it's favor. Down side, finding mutants, getting them… I mean, if they're powerful enough to be a really promising recruit, they might be able to fight off a vamp." Faith shrugged. "But hey, if something's worth us going through effort, there are probably things worth effort to the bad guys. Depending on the bad guy, I know there are."  
  
"How comforting." Tanya shivered. "I think I'll just go right on inside now…"  
  
In the end, all of them went inside. They took turns with the showering, wanting to remove the stench of the burning carpet. Outside, plumes of smoke continued to rise from the burning carpet, shingles and bad wood from the renovating. Milk and some chocolate chip cookies helped a little bit, although the possibility of a gathered nest of vampire mutants remained an ugly image in their minds.   
  
"I think there's definitely a call for Slaying tonight. Something's out there, and where there's a master vamps, there's minions." Faith commented around a mouthful of cookie.  
  
"You just felt freaked out by that idea and want to kill something in hopes of feeling better." Mort's words held a hint of teasing.  
  
"Well…" Faith paused, considering his words. "Yeah. But it's still a good idea to get rid of the minions."  
  
"Might as well go with you then. Hopefully as back up and not bait." Mort sighed, swallowing the last of his milk.  
  
"Back up's good." Faith smiled at him "We'll leave just after sunset."  
  
end part 25. 


	12. parts 26 to 28

Faith felt on edge the moment that she first stepped outside. She couldn't explain it, but there was the definite feeling that there was something – something bad – out there. That something was going to happen. It gave her a prickly feeling all over. Glancing at Mort, she found herself whispering. "Do you feel that?"  
  
He rubbed at his arms, frowning. His words were also soft, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "Yeah… And I don't like it. What… something out there, and it's not something good, is it?"  
  
"Pretty much. I just… I don't know more than that." Faith grabbed a sword, feeling the need to go more heavily armed tonight. Maybe it would help, and maybe it wouldn't, but it just might make her feel a little bit better.  
  
"Tonight's going to hurt, isn't it?" Mort's words were soft, and almost sounded like he wanted her to tell him that he was only imagining things.  
  
"Probably." Faith sighed, wishing that she could tell him something else. "How about we take tomorrow night off after this one?"  
  
He only chuckled, grabbing a sharp looking ax to take along. "Let's get through tonight first?"  
  
They started with the graveyard, partly because it was nearby, and partly because it was a pretty big vamp tradition. Faith walked into the walls, her feet making soft shushing noises in the grass as she walked. She felt tense, ready to jump at the slightest noise, and half certain that there was something else here. She was too wound up to be quite certain if she was really picking up a vamp or if it was all nerves.  
  
"Oh, look at this. Isn't it a bit late to be out walking with your boyfriend?" The voice had the sort of slow drawl that should have sounded pleasant. But there was something, a slight hissing and a sort of cold menace that left it sounding like a challenge.  
  
Faith turned, looking for the speaker. It felt like a vamp, not old, but oddly strong. She stepped back at the sight. He was huge, nearly seven feet tall, with a sort of leathery hide covering his body, and a pair of ridges remarkably like an alligator's running down his back. A muzzle with sharp teeth gave him added menace, and yellow eyes glared from under heavy brows. She couldn't tell if he was vamped out or just really looked that menacing to start with, but there was only one explanation that fit. "Mutant vampire…"  
  
"Oh, yessss." He sort of hissed the words, and made this expression that could have been a smile or intended as a menacing baring of very sharp teeth. Lots more than the standard thirty two. "And you two will be a nice meal."  
  
"Don't count on it, toothy." Faith glared at him, trying to figure out if he was alone or if he had reinforcements somewhere in the area. He looked like there was a good chance that he'd be a lot stronger than the typical vampire.   
  
He lunged towards her, teeth bared in a snarl as a low rumble emerged. Definitely alligator like, and the whole situation was bringing up bad memories. Faith twisted out of the way, slashing at him with one knife, sort of hoping against reason that his hide wasn't as protective as it looked. The blade parted his skin, but instead of a deep slash, it left only a shallow cut. Not encouraging at all.  
  
He grabbed at her, not terribly fast, but apparently strong. "You're going to pay for that…"  
  
"Right… Pretty typical minion line there, toothy." Faith tried to keep from panicking. He was big, and strong, but she was faster. All she had to do was figure out a way to use that against him… "What's your boss doing, gathering mutants and turning them?"  
  
"Yes. And then, we'll not have to fear the rest of you ever again, human." His angry glare sent shivers down her spine.  
  
Suddenly, Mort dropped down, landing on the vampire's shoulders and sending him face first down to the ground. There were several snapping sounds with the impact. Mort then leapt away, just in case the vampire was still capable of grabbing him. "I've heard lines like that before, from Magneto. Granted, his plan was less toothy and more technological, but it didn't work. Why should yours do any better?"  
  
"Another mutant…. She would find you useful." Astonishingly, the alligator mutant wasn't finished. The resemblance was even more obvious with him on the ground like that. He somehow lunged forwards from the ground, that rumbling growl again filling the air.  
  
As the mutant vampire lunged at Mort, Faith quickly switched from knife to sword, and made a swift chopping motion for the back of his neck. It should have been an easy strike, especially since he was already on the ground and she had Slayer strength. But it was hard to get the blade through his neck. He roared as his flesh disintegrated, momentarily leaving his skeleton before it too began to crumble. That sort of delayed dusting wasn't normal for any vamp under three centuries, but… but he couldn't have been turned for more than a few years.  
  
"Well… that wasn't very easy. He was… a lot tougher than a normal vamp that age." Faith took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "But if that's one of the minions…"  
  
"How tough is the Master?" Mort looked at her, his expression grim. "Good question. I don't think I'll like the answer."  
  
"Right… I think this place is dead now, let's get out of here." Faith wiped the blood onto the grass, cleaning her sword.  
  
They were almost back at the motorcycle when Mort spoke again. "Faith, do you think that idiot Watcher has that girl out tonight?"  
  
"Oh damn, I bet he does." Faith had a horrible sinking feeling. "She'd get slaughtered if she ran into another minion like that one."  
  
"So, I guess we try to find them?" Mort sounded a bit reluctant, as if he'd really rather just let the guy get killed.  
  
"Actually, we look for trouble, and figure there's a big chance that's where they are anyhow." Faith found herself hoping they'd get there in time. Hoping that the girl didn't die because her Watcher was an idiot.  
  
End part 26.  
  
They made their way along the back roads towards the town, stopping long enough to fight something that looked like a snapping turtle the size of a Volkswagon Bug. That had been quite the sight, especially as it was devouring someone's sheep when they first saw the thing.  
  
It had seemed perfectly willing to add them to the menu. The feet had wicked claws the size of their forearms, and it swiped clumsily at them. It's head was capable of being retracted almost into the shell, or extending out almost seven feet away, a discovery that cost Faith a bit of sleeve. In the end, Mort had distracted it long enough for Faith to creep close enough to flip it onto it's back.  
  
She was convinced that she'd strained something with that effort. The gigantic snapping turtle was heavy.  
  
They'd wedged a couple rocks beside it, hoping that it would be stuck there, unable to right itself and continue eating sheep and snapping at people. Faith wanted to kill it, not liking the idea of leaving anything that dangerous alive and behind her. But two things stopped her, the simplest being that she wasn't quite certain how to kill such a large turtle. She couldn't crack it's shell, and couldn't get close enough to try for decapitation or impaling the brain through the eye socket without it biting her arm off.  
  
The other thing was the building sense that they were running out of time. Thy left the gigantic turtle on it's back, the clawed feet flailing uselessly as the head tried to snap any anything in range. Faith rubbed at her arms, feeling her skin rising into goose-bumps.  
  
"Want to bet they're at that orchard again?" Mort's voice was low, and he was practically scurrying them towards the motorcycle. "He seems like a pattern kind of guy."  
  
"Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" Faith murmured, her mind already spinning. IF he was a big pattern following traditionalist, there would be an established patrol route. And if you followed a set pattern all the time, any halfway intelligent foe could learn it, and pick a point along the route for an ambush. Preferably somewhere that was far enough that no help or interference would come… "Go faster."  
  
The motorcycle was practically roaring as they sped down the road. The wind whipped at them, and Faith could feel it tugging at her hair, probably twisting hundreds of tiny knots and tangles into it. She could feel the vampires ahead, even before she could smell the sickly sweet scent of rotting apples.  
  
Mort didn't so much slow to a halt as just whip the bike into this tight, momentum killing turn that left it on it's side. They started to run, hoping that it wasn't too late, hoping that things could be salvaged, and dreading that it was already over. Dreading that there would be nothing left but a pair of broken corpses. Faith clutched the hilt of her sword and tried to run faster.  
  
As they drew closer, she could see a small figure fighting with two others, undoubtedly Lorrie fighting a pair of vampires. There was another figure, and a large mass that didn't quite look right and shouldn't have been there. The feeling of danger was thicker now, a nasty taste in the back of Faith's throat.  
  
She was close enough to see them clearly now. Lorrie was fighting a pair of vampires, one of them a woman with a wild mane of green hair and a faint shimmer over her body, and the other a guy with a smug sneer that looked pretty normal. The Watcher was held in the lower arms of a hulking mass of… well, it sort of reminded her of an ogre. Twice the height of the Watcher, with a smaller pair of arms below the ribcage, and a lumpy head with flap-like ears, he was unmistakably hideous. Faith wasn't certain if that was some sort of demon or yet another frightening mutant vampire. The Watcher was being held, his arms outstretched as he dangled in the air. It looked as if he was being held tight, as if the thing was trying to stretch him wider or rip him in half like a wishbone.  
  
The only figure not fighting or otherwise busy was a woman. She wore a sleeveless dark dress that fell to somewhere around her calves, fluttering in the breeze. Her dark hair was either short or twisted into a subtle pinned up style. Facing the Watcher, she shook her head, as if dismayed or regretful. "It is quite a simple matter. You are a Watcher, although she is certainly no Slayer. You would naturally have learned all that you could about this area, so you know the things I am looking for. Tell me where I can find the Door."  
  
"Go to Hell." The watcher had barely spat the defiant words before the thing holding him gave a tug, and there was a nasty sound as one shoulder came out of the socket.  
  
Faith absorbed all of this in mere moments. She swung her sword in a swift arc, slicing the head from the smug man. She'd known things were bad, but this sounded like things were even more complicated than she'd thought. Instead of just looking for more mutants, the woman – the Master Vampire? – she was looking for some sort of artifact. Because Faith really doubted that the woman was a frustrated fan of Jim Morrison. Lorrie looked astonished and delighted to see her, possibly because any help would be welcome right about now.  
  
There was a rather rude surprise as she swung her sword at the green haired woman. Her sword hit the faint shimmer around her and sort of… bounced. It felt horribly jarring, almost like she'd hit some sort of wall.  
  
Laughing, the green haired vampire kicked out at Faith, apparently certain that she was invulnerable. "You can't touch me."  
  
Faith wanted to scream in frustration. How was she supposed to get rid of some vampire with a magical shield? Or maybe… probably a mutant shield, some sort of protection from attacks. She watched as Mort leapt towards the ogre thing, and it just… swatted him aside, like a man swatting at a fly. He went sailing through the air, and managed to twist and bounce feet first off of the electric pole instead of being smashed against it. With a groan of wood and sharp pinging snaps, the pole crashed the ground, and dull little pops came from the ends of the wires.  
  
Hmmm… could vampires be electrocuted? Time to find out, especially since she didn't have any better ideas. Faith caught Lorrie's eyes, and glanced at the fallen pole. Lorrie made this sort of startled 'oh' expression, and started trying to catch the green haired vampire's attention.  
  
"I will have the Door! The Door to the Heavens shall be mine, and then I will be unstoppable. You can not keep me from learning what I want to know." The woman's voice was an angry snarl.  
  
Faith managed to grab the green haired vampire and send her flying to the section of ground where the power lines had fallen. The startled shriek became something else entirely as she landed, force field and all, over the power lines. Her body arced, smoking as the energy crackled over her field and through her body. It looked like an excruciatingly painful way to go.  
  
At the same moment, the Watcher spat out something in a language that Faith thought might have been Russian, but it sounded terribly insulting. In response, the ogre pulled, and with a horrible series of popping sounds, the Watcher was torn in half.  
  
"Perhaps you will know instead…." The vampire woman's eyes were glowing as she turned towards Faith and Lorrie.  
  
End part 27.  
  
"Oh shit…." Lorrie's comment seemed to sum things up.  
  
Faith just grabbed the girl, half towing her as she tried to run. Towards the bike, towards the road. Mort was running right along with them, although there was a bit more leaping. She could tell that Lorrie was going into shock, the girl's skin felt clammy and there was a sort of blankness behind the terror. She remembered the feeling from when Mellie had died…  
  
Now wasn't the time for reminiscing, it was the time for running.  
  
Mort had reached the bike first, and was trying to start it. But it coughed and sputtered, the engine refusing to properly start. "Now is not the time… hell, forget the bike."  
  
Once again, they were running. The bike had refused to start, and any more delay trying to figure out why or to attempt to start 'just one more time' might get them killed by the Master Vampire and her Ogre. Was master still the right term for a female vampire? The books had never quite gone over that part… Faith wanted to growl as her mind tried to wander. They were running from a scary vampire and an ogre, ands he was trying to remember the proper formal description? Next she'd be debating the proper time for tea and how exactly a British 'biscuit' was different from an American 'cookie' when she should be fighting.  
  
The only benefit was that this road went almost directly to Tanya's house. If they could keep ahead of their enemies, they might be able to escape, to get behind the safety of a home's walls against the vampire, and a place with more weapons in case the ogre wasn't a big scary mutant vampire but was instead a big scary something else that didn't need an invitation.  
  
As Faith's feet pounded into the road, she discovered that it wasn't the neatly packed and tarred stones that she'd assumed from riding over it. There were loose stones skittering over the surface, flinging themselves under her feet in an effort to trip her, to send them sprawling to the ground, helpless before her enemies. She could hear the ogre's feet thundering like gunshots behind them, not quite closing but still far too close.  
  
Why had it never occurred to her just how far away from everything Tanya lived? She could feel her muscles aching, especially the long strip down her back from her shoulder that had protested when she'd flipped the giant snapping turtle. Her lungs ached with every rasping breath that she dragged in.  
  
"It's getting closer!" Lorrie's voice was barely more than a terrified squeak. "The Handbook didn't cover anything like that…"  
  
"He's big, not fast. Doesn't seem very smart either. When we hit the yard, split up." Mort's words sounded short, almost gasped out.  
  
It felt like forever before they ran to Tanya's yard, and Faith could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Everything ached and burned, and she headed right for the front door, hoping that she hadn't just lead back doom. Lorrie was staggering with her, and tears were streaming down her face. She practically collided with the door, and her hand was shaking as she fumbled with the doorknob. She dimly caught sight of Mort, moving upwards in one of those impossible leaps.  
  
Faith and Lorrie practically fell inside when the door opened, and Faith sort of twisted and rolled, slamming the door shut behind her. As she did, she saw the glowing yellow eyes of the master Vampire coming towards the house, not quite at the yard yet. From upstairs, she heard another door slam, and a sort of muffled thump.  
  
Outside, the ogre bellowed, sounding frustrated.  
  
"Faith? What's… can someone please explain what's out there, and why doors are being slammed?" Tanya's confused question seemed almost out of place.  
  
Lorrie just burst into tears, curling into a tight ball of legs and arms, sobbing incoherently.  
  
Faith slid down the door, feeling exhaustion in her whole body. "Well… we found that Master Vamp. And she's got scary minions."  
  
Wincing at yet another bellow from outside, Tanya looked at Faith and then at the sobbing potential Slayer. "That must be… was it Lauren? Lorrie? There's hot water for cocoa, plenty of marshmallows, and I'd really like some answers."  
  
They ended up managing to get Lorrie moved to a chair, curled up with a mug of cocoa that she was just staring at. Faith pulled Tanya a bit away, and tried to let her know to keep relatively quiet. "Lorrie's Watcher got killed tonight, pretty much right in front of her. It was… it was pretty bad. She's probably in shock."  
  
"Oh no… the poor girl." Tanya looked worried, and glanced over at Lorrie, one hand playing with the tip of her braid, a nervous habit. "I'm guessing that this had something to do with this scary master vampire that you mentioned?"  
  
"Yeah. She wanted him to tell her where something was. Something that she called the Door to the Heavens." Faith frowned, wondering just what was so special about this door. "She seemed to think that it would make her unstoppable."  
  
"He wouldn't talk, would he?" Tanya's question was soft, as if she already knew the answer.  
  
"No. It almost made me respect him a little… well, yeah, it did. He was still a jerk, but… he wasn't a jerk that would spill to the evil woman." Faith shook her head, the gruesome scene replaying in her mind. "He didn't… he didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves… He didn't deserve to go like that."  
  
Tanya nodded, and then looked up, her expression puzzled. "What's this Door supposed to do anyhow?"  
  
End part 28. 


	13. part 29

Faith blinked, considering the question. What did the Door of Heaven do? "I have absolutely no idea. But she thought the Watcher would know, and she seemed to think that having it would make her unstoppable."  
  
"I don't think I like that idea." Tanya's voice was soft. "Did we finish that spare bedroom in the downstairs? The one with the little water-closet? We can't just send Lorrie back out there…"  
  
"The dresser still looks like a refugee from a ship-wreck, and there's no sheets on the bed yet. We left the scimitar and spear in the closet, but took the crossbow out of that little bathroom. If something's in there with you, you're too close for a crossbow to do any good at all. Floors and window are sound… umm… no curtains." Faith considered the situation. They'd been inspecting the rooms one by one, checking for weak floorboards, loose or drafty windows, and holes in the wall, as well as collecting and cataloging weapons. Fixing up old furniture was a lot farther down on the list.  
  
"There are clean sheets in the hall, and I happen to know that the couch is not comfortable to sleep on." Tanya looked as if she'd already started making plans for the girl's future. "She can help get the room straightened up, and this way we can be sure that it's to her taste."  
  
Tanya went walking into the room, clearly intending to get Lorrie settled into the half finished room. Faith smiled, having learned by now that Tanya seemed to enjoy having someone around to fuss over. Maybe she and Lorrie could go pick up her stuff tomorrow, or maybe Tanya and the car with trunk space should go?  
  
Where was Mort? She'd heard him slam the door behind him, everyone had heard that. But then, why hadn't he come downstairs? Slowly, Faith made her way towards the third floor, still holding the sword, just in case. As she stepped onto the third floor, her skin felt prickly, sort of like a gathering of powerful energy. Moving faster, she headed towards the door. If anything had happened to Mort…  
  
Faith skidded to a halt, trying to figure out why Mort was staring out the opened door. "Hey there, remember the scary giant and the evil vamp? What are you doing, making faces at them?"  
  
There was something in Mort's voice, as if he was seeing something that didn't make sense. "Faith? Come over here and look through the door. Tell me what you see, because… I think I must have got hit on the head at some point."  
  
Moving closer, Faith could see little glowing runes all over the door. She recognized Sumerian, Etruscan, and Greek, but there were more that were unfamiliar to her. She'd noticed that the door wasn't smooth, but for some reason, she'd never really paid any attention to the details of it. She definitely would have taken a closer look if it had been glowing. "Mort? What do you see?"  
  
He just shook his head, and gestured. A gust of wind came into the hallway, thick with salt, and fish, and that big city blend. But there wasn't any large city close enough to smell…   
  
Faith moved closer, standing right behind him. Looking over his shoulder, she saw what looked like a metal balcony overlooking an expanse of ocean. Beyond that was a towering mass of sparkling skyscrapers. "Oh my God… that's New York. How did you open Tanya's door and get a view of New York?"  
  
Mort just shook his head, seemingly fascinated by the view. "I just… the giant roared, and I opened the door, and…" He gestured, his hand sweeping over the view of everything. "There it was."  
  
"Did you say anything, touch anything else?" Faith was trying to make sense of this, but her mind kept returning to the image of New York. "Is that… where are we looking from anyhow?"  
  
"Statue of Liberty."  
  
Faith gently pried his fingers from the edge of the door, and slowly closed it. The glowing lights seemed to shimmer and crawl over the surface, and then the door was normal again, although there were still glowing markings all over the frame. "That is just too damn weird."  
  
"That's got to be the Door of Heaven." His voice was still low, as if his mind wasn't entirely focused on here and now. "That roar… it reminded me of Sabertooth, and then I was thinking of the last time I saw him. That was at the Statue of Liberty."  
  
Faith felt herself shudder, and reached out, locking the door. "Let's just leave that be for now. Maybe we should talk to Tanya about that."  
  
"How do we explain that? Hey, Tanya, remember that door for the ghosts to skedaddle away through? I just opened it up to the freaking Statue of Liberty! That just… it shouldn't be possible. The distances… how could it do that?" Mort shook his head, rubbing his fingertips as if they had gone numb.  
  
"Well, maybe it's magic?" Faith understood where he was coming from. The idea… it gave her the creeps.  
  
"No wonder the vampire wanted it. If it can open up to somewhere halfway up the eastern seacoast, how far can it reach? Can you step through, just like a normal door? It's damn near teleportation…" Mort's voice was hoarse as he spoke, no doubt lost in the images of what could be done with a door that could go anywhere.  
  
Faith grew cold as the implications sank in. "She's right… with something like that, she'd be unstoppable."  
  
End part 29. 


	14. part 30

They made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen, making themselves some hot cocoa as they waited for Tanya to reappear. She'd apparently gone to settle Lorrie in the spare room. The cocoa was too hot, but Faith didn't care.  
  
"We need more information." She muttered, sipping at the hot chocolate. "We don't know enough about this thing… Is there another one on the other side somewhere?"  
  
"Who do you ask about something like that? Where would you even start to look?" Mort demanded, his hands shaking enough that he put the cocoa down.  
  
"Watchers study things like that. Maybe there's something about it in Uncle Eli Miller's library?" Faith frowned, thinking about the other Watchers that she'd met. "If this was Sunnydale, we'd just ask Giles, but…"   
  
"There's this nifty thing called the Internet. Why not send him an email?" Mort's soft question fell into the kitchen.  
  
"Email? Not to Giles, he's terrible with a computer. The only one in Sunnydale that was any good with them was… Willow." Faith replied, and then stopped to consider that. Willow Rosenberg was a genius with computers, capable of hacking into databases and finding obscure and useful information online. She would also be able to pass the question on to Giles. If she wanted. If she'd be willing to help Faith.  
  
If she could even remember the right email address.  
  
"I might be able to send one to Willow… If I can remember her email." Faith whispered, trying not to get her hopes up. "Of course, the last time I really saw her, I was… well, I sort of threatened to kill her, so she might not want to help me."  
  
"Ouch." Mort shook his head, blowing gently on his fingers. "And awkward. I suppose that it couldn't hurt to try. The worst is that she doesn't help, right?"  
  
"I guess." Faith wasn't certain that she wanted to have any contact with Sunnydale at all. But with the lengths that vampire was willing to go to already told her that this was far too important to not ask for help because of unhappy memories.  
  
"The two of you look miserable. What's wrong?" Tanya's voice was gentle, possibly still soft from soothing Lorrie.  
  
"You've got the Door that vampire was looking for. On the third floor." The words spilled from Mort. "The frame was covered with glowing marks, and then when I opened it…. it wasn't your front yard that I saw."  
  
"This Door to Heaven is in my house?" Tanya blinked, her hand reaching towards a chair. She sank down, paling as she considered the information. "What all can it do? Where does it go? How does it work? And what was that huge thing in my yard?"  
  
"The giant scary minion of the evil head vampire." Mort's answer may not have been in the formal phrasing, but it got the message through.  
  
Faith sighed, and looked over at Tanya. "We don't know enough about the Door. He opened it up to a view of New York, as seen from the Statue of Liberty."  
  
"We need to learn what it does." Tanya's hands clenched, and she then shook her head with a sigh. "And it probably won't happen tonight. We can start checking Uncle's books tomorrow. Either of you have someone to ask for advice or information?"  
  
"There… There was someone in Sunnydale that might be able to get information, if I can remember the email, and if she's as soft and forgiving as B said that she was." Faith ran her hand though her hair, and sighed. Maybe if she dreamed about Dick or Mellie, she could ask? It couldn't hurt, after all.  
  
"I wonder if vampires still show up to a telepath?"  
  
Mort's question made very little sense to Faith. Looking at him, she tried to figure out where it had come from for a few moments as his fingers tapped an irregular pattern on the table. "And you ask because…?"  
  
"I… there's a strong telepath in New York. If she's gathering a lot of mutants to become her army of doom, and if vampire's minds still show up, he should be able to find them." Mort was glancing at them, fingers still tapping almost spastically against the table. "But he's… he was one of the good guys, and I wasn't. Not then."  
  
"Well, Faith can try to send an email, and we'll try to figure out how to send a message for you. Do you suppose they're listed in the telephone directory?" Tanya forced a smile, and turned to make herself some cooca.  
  
"You know, I never checked. None of us did, we just… sent Mystique to check things out." Mort chuckled, shaking his head. "Why not see if they're in the phone book?"  
  
It took Faith almost an hour of false starts and deleted efforts to draft up a message that would be sent to what she hoped was Willow's email. She tried not to say anything that would tell the people in Sunnydale where she was, tried not to give too much information in case the email went to someone else entirely. Finally, she closed her eyes and clicked 'Send'.  
  
Hey Red  
  
At least, I hope this is your email instead of someone else. If the person reading this isn't Willow Rosenberg, just delete it and save yourself the headache.  
  
Willow – yeah, I woke up. Did you know that? hospitals are incredibly boring, so I left. Anyhow…. There's this really dangerous person, you should know the type. She's looking for an object – something called the Door to Heaven.  
  
I don't know what it's supposed to do, but she thinks it'll make her invincible. That would be a very BAD idea – she's already scary enough. Any information would be good, wonderful, great. Please.  
  
I'm sorry. For well, Willow knows about it all, and if you aren't Willow and you're still reading this, you don't know and don't need to know.   
  
Faith.  
  
End part 30. 


	15. parts 31 and 32

Over breakfast, Faith and Mort tried to figure out the details of how to gather more information. Tanya and Lorrie weren't up yet, so they had relative privacy. It might have been nice to have slept longer themselves, but strange dreams about armies of mutant vampires and ogres tearing people in half had made the night restless for them both. Shortly after dawn, having woke from yet another nightmare, they had just given up, and pulled on clothing.  
  
"I have to try to go to Xavier's." Mort's voice was low, filled with worry. "It could go badly."  
  
"How…" Faith paused, suddenly knowing just how Mort intended to get there. "You think that the Door can take you there. Just think of this place, open the door, and there you are?"  
  
"Why not? Can you think of a better way to have the thing work? Why else make the magical device a door if you can't go through it?" Mort reached out, his hand resting on her cheek.  
  
"I don't like you going without back-up. What if they… what if they try to hurt you?" Faith hated the tremor in her voice, the nervous flutter in her stomach. This was part of the reason why she hadn't wanted to let anyone get close, hadn't wanted to care. Because if you cared, then you worried, and it would hurt if he got hurt.  
  
"Faith…" He leaned in, gently kissing her. "I'll be careful. But he's our best bet for information from the mutant end of things."  
  
"If you get hurt, I'm going to go in and kick their asses." Faith whispered, hoping that it would help this feeling.  
  
"Give me an hour, and then come looking for me. Just in case." He smiled, and hugged her. "I'll be fine."  
  
Faith hugged him back, holding him close to her for a while, only reluctantly letting go. " I suppose that you can't go there if I don't let go, right? Do you really have to…?"  
  
"We need the information. I wish there was another way, but if there's something else out there, I don't know about it." He leaned his forehead against hers, and sighed. "It's just…. This is something big, and scary. If we didn't try everything that we can think of… Could you live with that? Wondering if we could have done better, stopped them faster?"  
  
"I guess you're right. But that doesn't mean that I have to like it." Faith whispered.  
  
She sat there, staring at her thumb as she wondered how she'd deal with things if something happened to Mort. If these Xavier's people hurt him. If that vampire got him. But… Mort could make his choices, and she couldn't keep him in her life and at the same time keep him out of the Slaying. Actually, except for the way she worried about how she'd deal with something happening, she liked having him there to watch her back.  
  
Faith slowly made her way towards the room with the computer, wondering if there would be a response from Willow. Wondering if there would be help from Sunnydale. Maybe it would keep her from worrying too much about Mort? Upstairs, a door shut.  
  
Faith turned on the computer, and carefully logged into the new email account. There were already several messages. Sighing, she deleted two advertisements for penis enlargements, one for debt reduction, one offering to enable her to make more money at home, and something that was trying to get her to buy more memory space for her email account. Finally, there was nothing left but the email from what she hoped was Willow's account.  
  
To: BackFromtheDark5x5@…  
  
From: RedRose99@…  
  
Subject: Re: Hey Red  
  
Faith  
  
I knew that you'd woke up. I'd been keeping tabs, checking on you every so often. Yes, hospitals are boring. Are we   
  
Can you give a description of this bad girl/woman? Lots easier to try to look someone up with a name, or a description or… something. I told Giles about your email – he 'oh dear'd and hmm'd and wondered why you would try to get a hold of any of us. We're checking a few books now to see if there's anything on this door.  
  
Just in case there really is a big danger. Which means a description so we can check more easily would help. Even say – looks so old, blond hair, feels so old… something. Especially if she's a big figure in local trouble.  
  
Yeah, I'm not sure that I trust you. Part of me wants too really. But another part keeps remembering the office – I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. I think I can accept the apology, but trust is another question.  
  
Willow  
  
Faith reread the email a few times, trying to figure out just how she felt about the matter. It was good that she'd remembered the right email. And a response was good, wasn't it? 'We're looking in a few books' was a good sign, right? It hurt a bit that the words were right there in black and white – 'not sure that I trust you.' It hurt, but when she considered the past between her and Willow… They'd never been close. They'd never been friends. It had been almost like they were rivals, for Buffy's time, for Xander's attention, for… everything. And she had almost killed Willow, so… maybe this was for the best?  
  
Assuming that the red head wasn't planning something devious and horrible. Like a computer virus, or sending someone out to cause more trouble. Or planning to send bad information out of some sort of desire for revenge…  
  
A door slammed upstairs.  
  
Faith got up from the chair, and started to make her way up the stairs. Surely this was too fast for Mort to be finished? But there he was, standing in front of the Door, glaring at it. The wooden frame was dark. "Something wrong?"  
  
"It's not… it's just opening to the front yard." Mort sighed, running his hand through his hair.  
  
"But last night…" Faith blurted, wondering what was going on. "Maybe it only works at certain times? Or certain circumstances?"  
  
With a shrug, Mort crossed his arms as he glared at the wood. "All I know is that it isn't opening to elsewhere now."  
  
"I guess we can try it again later. And in the meantime, there's Lorrie's stuff and the motorcycle to get." Faith pulled Mort in for a hug.  
  
"Yeah. It's just… I don't know." Mort relaxed into the hug, and kissed her. "Frustrating, I guess."  
  
"I know. There's too many things that we don't know, and it feels like time's running out."  
  
End part 31.  
  
"I'll go get the motorcycle. You can get Tanya and Lorrie and go get her stuff." Mort shrugged, again scowling at the door. "At least we know that will work."  
  
"Yeah. That's the thing about magic – it's just too tricky. There's always fine print, or a time limit, or some sort of clause…" Faith sighed. "I guess we can't do anything about that right now, can we?"  
  
"It doesn't look like it." Mort wrapped his arm around her, and they made their way back down the stairs. "I just hope they didn't decide to ruin the bike when they couldn't get us."  
  
"That wouldn't be good." Faith sighed, part of her already mourning the motorcycle that had given her so many hours pressed right up against Mort. "But it can be repaired more easily than we can."  
  
"Morning you two." Tanya yawned, one hand almost leaning on the wall. "Goodness." She yawned again before asking. "What was all the slamming doors about?"  
  
"The Door's broken or something. It just opened up to your backyard." Mort shook his head. "I'm going after the motorcycle, you ladies can get Lorrie's stuff."  
  
"Uhm huh." Tanya yawned again, shuffling towards the kitchen. "I'm not going anywhere before coffee. And breakfast."  
  
So, after breakfast, Faith found herself in a car with Tanya and Lorrie, heading into town to reclaim the potential Slayers possessions. They were figuring that it would probably take several trips, especially if they wanted to get the books and weapons. Faith just shook her head and leaned back in the seat. "I hate moving."   
  
"Weren't you running away with your mutant boyfriend?" Lorrie's question was full of nothing more than bafflement.   
  
"That's traveling, which has entirely different problems. But moving… you gather up all your stuff, including things you didn't know you had, or had forgotten that you had, and take it with you. And there's never enough boxes, you always loose something, and the books just take up so much space that it's ridiculous." She sighed, well aware of the importance of those heavy books. "When's the council going to get with the program and put all that on CD ROM's?"  
  
Lorrie just chuckled from the back seat. "Slightly before Hell freezes over."  
  
Faith just chuckled, thinking back to the things that she'd heard about the Council headquarters. "Maybe some people can start without official permission? I mean, if we can find someone who knows computers, how hard could it be? They can put the encyclopedia Britannica on CD-ROM, after all."  
  
"Do you know anyone that could do it?" Lorrie asked, her tone thoughtful.  
  
"Do I know someone who is capable? Yes. Would she flip about the subject matter? No. Would she do a favor like that for me? Doubtful." Faith sighed, thinking about the mess of Sunnydale again. "Which is pretty much the same thing as not knowing anyone, isn't it?"  
  
Tanya just chuckled. "Don't be quite so pessimistic, Faith. Isn't Mort good with wiring? Maybe he can do electronics as well… I'm sure between the lot of us we can manage something close to technical competence."  
  
Faith blinked, half certain that it wasn't that easy. She could hear Lorrie in the back seat, trying very hard not to laugh. "But would something close be enough to put the demon indexes on a CD ROM? Doesn't' that take… some sort of equipment or programs or something?"  
  
"Just let me have a nice little fantasy where things get easier, okay? At least while we're driving?" Tanya was smiling. "I know it's not very realistic, but it would sure be convenient."  
  
Thinking back to long hours spent flipping through old books, Faith sighed. "Yeah. While we're dreaming, can there be something to make all the writing nice and neat? Easy to read?"  
  
"Why not? We might as well dream big, since it's all pretty unlikely. I know for a fact that I don't have a burner to put information on a CD to begin with, and I probably couldn't use one if I had it." Tanya replied.   
  
It wasn't hard to find the small house where Lorrie and her Watcher had been staying. And when Lorrie mentioned that it had been in his name, they quickly decided that they should take the stuff and have everything gone by nightfall. With the owner dead, there would be no need for an invitation. So they started to pack up books and weapons, and some of the things that Lorrie liked. Lorrie and Faith decided that if they could pack some of the things, and just have Tanya drive the stuff back, then it might go faster.  
  
As Tanya started back with the first load of weapons and books, Faith sighed. "Well, I guess I wanted to do something other than working on the floor of Tanya's house. This should teach me to be careful about that sort of thing."  
  
"Faith… How do you know all of this? I mean, I'm a potential Slayer, and that's why... well, why I had that guy. But what about you?" Lorrie was looking at Faith, her eyes full of questions.  
  
"Sort of a long story." Faith muttered, wondering if there was a safe, harmless way to avoid those questions.  
  
"We've got time." Lorrie sat on a chair, looking expectantly at Faith.  
  
Sinking onto the couch, Faith sighed. She might as well explain. At least, she could explain a few things. As soon as she figured out how. "I suppose we do."  
  
End part 32. 


	16. part 33

"Right, once upon a time, there was this woman. More like a girl in a grown up body. And she had a boyfriend, this guy that she thought was wonderful and kind and loyal… the whole usual load of crap." Faith leaned back, her eyes following the line of ceiling tiles. "Anyhow, one day, this woman found out that apparently she and what's his name hadn't been as careful as they'd thought, and there would be a few changes in her life. Next thing you know, he's gone, she's wondering what the hell happened, and a few months later, there I am. She never let me forget that I ruined everything for her."  
  
"But… you didn't make the guy leave. And that wouldn't keep her from finding someone else, right?" Lorrie blinked, as if the whole mess was almost foreign.  
  
"She found other guys. Dated, dumped them, got dumped. Didn't matter that much, they were all jerks. Apparently, that was the type of guy she liked." Faith sighed, the familiar bitterness welling up inside of her. "Mellie showed up when I was nine. She offered to take care of me, to take me in. Just like that, mom handed me over. She didn't even ask any questions."  
  
"Mellie… she was your Watcher?" Lorrie whispered, her eyes wide. "My first Watcher was Eli, but he… He was an old man, and it… People don't live forever."  
  
"Yeah. Mellie was my Watcher. She cared about me, took care of me. She made sure that I could read, and hit the linguistics thing, so I could get headaches from the old demon books too. I learned about weapons, and fighting, and how to throw knives." Faith smiled, remembering the happiness of those days. "God, sometimes I just wish I could go back to how things were then…"  
  
"What about the Handbook?" Lorie was leaning forward, her eyes full of questions. "Eli said that it was dreadfully outdated, obeying the rules of a society that had entirely changed and trying to shape my life accordingly."  
  
"Mellie said it was great practice for figuring out pompous old texts written a couple centuries back. For the way they put their sentences together, and the wherefores and so forth's. The pages made decent knife targets as well." Faith grinned just a bit.  
  
"What changed?"  
  
` "Turns out there was this little blond girl in California. Maybe your age, but… nobody had ever told her about a sacred destiny, or about potentials and demons. And then one night, boom, a Slayer went down, and the fate of the world rested on Buffy." Faith sighed, reminding herself to try to stick to just the facts.  
  
"Who's Buffy?" Lorrie frowned, and looked over at a hideously looming bookshelf. "Was she the one with friends and family?"  
  
"Her mom, and a couple good friends." Faith sighed, feeling a stab of envy. She'd never had friends like that. "Anyhow, there was some sort of prophecy, a big bad vampire, and little miss Slay-girl gets drowned. Just for a few moments. But that called a new Slayer."  
  
"How can you drown just a little? I mean, a slayer's only called by death." Lorrie frowned, her feet kicking on the chair legs.  
  
"Thing about the whole destined powers or whatever makes girls into Slayers – they never heard of CPR. One of her friends had followed her, and when she went down, he pulled her out. Breath of life, and there you go, one not so drowned Slayer." Faith sighed, once more wondering how Buffy could have been so blind as to miss out on the guy's crush. "The Chosen One became the Chosen Two."  
  
"There was another Slayer. Who?" Lorrie was leaning forward now, fascinated.  
  
"Girl named Kendra. Apparently, she was all by the book, didn't even know how to talk to guys. So, there's the cheerleader and the textbook Slayer. Big bad evil on the west coast, they both try to stop it, and Kendra dies. Nest thing I know, everything's changed. Except that I didn't really know about another Slayer, didn't know that I wasn't the one and only Chosen One. Not until…" Faith swallowed, remembering Kakistos, remembering the nightmare of death and panic. "Not until later, when some bad things happened. Mellie died."  
  
"A vampire, right? Was it… was it about information?" Lorrie whispered, her eyes filled with pain.  
  
"I think it was just because he was an evil bastard. But I ran, headed for Sunnydale, where there might be help. And then… well…. Things didn't go like I'd planned. Kakistos got staked, but… Let's just say it didn't work well." Faith sighed, slouching into the chair.  
  
"And now you're here?" Lorrie ventured, still looking oddly at Faith.  
  
"Yeah, now I'm here. I got Mort, who's the first decent guy that I've known in practically ever. I got Tanya, who seems… She reminds me some of Mellie and some of Joyce. More like Joyce, actually. And there's big danger, and the fate of the world as we know it, and all these big questions about humans and mutants. And I keep dreaming about Mellie and Dick." Faith tried to control her emotions, tried to force her eyes to stay dry, her breathing to stay even.  
  
"Who's Dick? And… I hope that's a name, and not…" Lorrie was turning bright pink as she spoke.  
  
"Richard Wilkins. He… he sort of took care of me for a while. But he's… he's dead now too, like Mellie." Faith tried to smile, tried to avoid the deeper questions.  
  
"You're dreaming about dead people. That's just weird sounding." Lorrie shook her head, looking again at the looming shelves. "But not really any stranger than vampires and demons and magic doors that are worth killing over."  
  
"Yeah, welcome to the life of a Slayer. It starts to eat you even before you get Called, and I don't know if anything stops it but death. I wonder if any of us, if anyone with the Slayer potential gets to have a life, gets to just live for themselves." She knew that there was bitterness there, and couldn't quite bring herself to care. As far as she could tell, it was true.  
  
"Sometimes life just…" Lorrie sighed, and pulled her knees up. "It's not fair. And that doesn't change anything, and pointing it out can't fix it, and a good Watcher can't fix it, and it sounds an awful lot like whining, but…"  
  
"But life isn't fair, and it often sucks." Faith nodded. "Pretty much."  
  
Lorrie sat there for a few moments, maybe thinking about what Faith had said, maybe considering the past, or maybe just staring at the carpet. "Would it be too much to hope that the new Watcher – because you know that they'll send me one – will be someone tolerable? Someone who won't try to push me into a system that's been out of date for a few hundred years?"  
  
"You'd think it wouldn't be too much." Faith sighed, and considered the matter. ""I just don't know. Maybe it would be best to hope for someone who knows their stuff, and doesn't try to run your life too much? I mean, we can find someone else to cover how to fight."  
  
"Just like that?" Lorrie looked over, one eyebrow raised. "It can't be that easy, can it?"  
  
"It's a lot easier to find someone who knows how to fight, or several someones to cover different aspects, than to find someone who can read all the languages, and has the demon lore." Faith sighed, and let her feet slide back to the floor. "I just…. The Council's full of jerks."  
  
"The whole world's full of jerks." Lorrie sighed, and got out of the chair. "I guess we might as well keep packing stuff. Do we have any leads on the door thing? Why she wants this Door of Heaven?"  
  
"A couple ideas, but nothing that we can point to in a book." Faith sighed, part of her wanting to tell Lorrie, and part of her not trusting the other girl. "We figured that there would be researching, and I emailed someone in Sunnydale to see if they could find anything. Allegedly, they'll do some research and get back to me if they find anything, but I'm not sure if we can count on anything from that direction."  
  
"Okay… I'll just go pack up the crossbow. And my other clothing." Lorrie vanished into a bedroom.  
  
As they packed up everything that they could find in the little house to indicate that a girl or someone from the Watcher's Council had lived here, Faith could only hope that something would go their way. That Mort would be able to get useful contact with those Xavier's people, that Willow and the Sunnydale people would find something useful and share it, that they'd be able to get a decent Watcher. Something, anything to give them a better chance.  
  
Faith really should have known better than to make such a generalized wish, even if it wasn't out loud.  
  
End 33. 


	17. parts 34 to 37

They kept packing up things, everything of Lorrie's, all the weapons, all the training equipment and the watcher books on demons, vampires, and other dark and mystical stuff. There was also a trunk half full of what could have been mystical talismans and artifacts, or just weird little knick-knacks, so they took that away as well. After some thought, Tanya had concluded that they'd have to take away a couple of the big shelves that had held the books of demons, just so the gaping empty areas wouldn't be an obvious sign that things had been removed. The place still looked full, as if the rightful occupant would be coming home at any moment.  
  
"It's just sad that I didn't have any more impact on this place. I mean, I've been living here, but you'd never be able to tell by looking." Lorrie sighed. "Can we go now?"  
  
"Yeah, it's getting late already." Faith shivered, part of her worried about the chance that the vampire and her minions might know where the Watcher had lived.  
  
The moon looked orange in the sky, like a huge D shape hanging over the town. The sun had started to slip below the horizon, and the sky was brilliantly streaked with reds, oranges and purples. It was a beautiful sunset, and had they been safely inside, they might have lingered to watch it. Instead, they hurried towards the farm house, the three of them hoping that the vampires weren't out.  
  
The trip back was uninterrupted, despite the tension that they were all feeling. Glancing nervously at the stars that gleamed overhead, they quickly hauled the trunk of maybe-artifacts inside. The shelves were left in the truck. They could bring them in tomorrow, when the sun was out. It was only after they shut and locked the door firmly behind them that they realized just how quiet the house was.  
  
"Shouldn't there be some noise from Mort?" Lorrie asked, rubbing over her arms as she glanced around the kitchen.  
  
"Maybe." Faith glanced around, feeling uneasy. She walked over to the pile of boxes that apparently had just been left in the corner of the kitchen, and grabbed a blade that fell in that fuzzy area between knife and sword. "It might be good to take a look around."  
  
Slowly, Faith headed upstairs. Maybe there was nothing more than the Door was finally working, and Mort was trying to talk to the people at Xavier's. Maybe he was just curled up with a book. Maybe he had decided to go to bed early. Or maybe not. But the Door might be a good place to start looking for answers. Most of the lights were out, so she found herself creeping through the dark house. A few of the floorboards were still creaky, and she tried to avoid stepping on them.  
  
Faith was frowning by the time she reached the second set of stairs. Going off alone in the dark house at night… It sounded like something out of a horror movie. Hopefully there wasn't something or someone in the house planning on getting her… Of course, if there was something trying to get her, she'd be ready. She could just reach out and turn on a light… Well, not here. The wiring wasn't done yet, because they'd decided to start with the roofs and floors.  
  
She knew that things weren't going to be that simple as she moved towards the section of hallway that held the Door. There was a faint bluish glow, not much more than a crescent moon, but definitely not from anything electrical. She wasn't surprised that it was coming from the frame around the Door, where all of the lines of glyphs were glowing. It was open about an inch, leaving it mostly closed, but open enough for a draft.  
  
Slowly, she reached out, pulling the door open. Her knife was ready in case of attack, and she was half crouched and tense. But the door simply opened onto a large, empty room, like the sort of classy, marble floored reception halls that fancy mansions held. It looked as if Mort had figured out a way to make the Door work after all, and this was probably that Xavier's place. He was there, somewhere, probably trying to talk to that telepath that he'd mentioned.  
  
After listening carefully for a few moments and hearing nothing to be alarmed over, Faith turned, thinking that she could shut the door and go back to the kitchen. Her hand had only touched the smooth wood when she stopped. The last time that he Door had opened to elsewhere, it hadn't gone there anymore after they'd shut it. If she closed the door now, would Mort be stuck on the other side? Maybe it would be best to leave it open just a little, at least until he came back.  
  
For a few moments, Faith stood there, studying the glowing markings. Some looked like the old Mesopotamian writings, cuneiform. Others reminded her of the Egyptian hieroglyphs, though she couldn't be certain what they were. There were what she could recognize as Latin script, though she couldn't quite read anything with the glow making it hard to focus on them, and there was a fourth type as well, though she didn't know what it was. She'd have to come back later, when the Door wasn't leading elsewhere, and take a look. Mellie would have insisted on it by now…  
  
There was a crashing noise from below.  
  
Sucking in a breath, Faith spun and dashed towards the stairs. There were other noises, the sort of faint scuffles that meant a fight, and more objects falling. She could hear Lorrie's voice, and an unfamiliar male demanding 'let go of me right now!' Whoever he was, he didn't belong here, and that was probably trouble… Why did the Door have to be so far away from everything else in the house?  
  
End part 34.  
  
Faith had dozens, maybe closer to a hundred different images flashing through her mind as she charged towards the shouting. The unknown he could be human, he could be a demons, could even be another mutant like Mort. The only safe bet was that he wouldn't be a vampire – none of them would be inviting anybody inside after dark. But none of that meant he would be safe, or nice, only alive.  
  
And she was the best fighter in the house. If he was a danger, she would be the best line of defense… damn the long hallway. She just leapt over the second set of stairs railing, ignoring the way the floorboards shrieked when she landed. Maybe it would turn out that he was safe, and then she'd feel embarrassed to come charging in with a knife, But embarrassed was better than someone injured or dead.  
  
As Faith flung herself into the dining room, she saw a guy about Lorrie's age with reddish hair. He looked alarmed, and was fumbling for something in his pocket. Everything about him looked human, which narrowed a few things down… "Stop right there!"  
  
"Ahhh!" He tried to stop, but his feet slipped on the floor, and he fell with a thump, his eyes wide as he stared at the sharp knife. "Oh shit…."  
  
"Where did he go?" Tanya's question didn't sound afraid, just worried.  
  
"He went that way. Where's Faith?" Lorrie's voice accompanied the sound of quick footsteps.  
  
"Knife." The guy whispered, his hand slowly emerging from his pocket. There was one of those cheap, disposable plastic lighters in his fingers, and his thumb was running along the edge as if it could offer reassurance to him.  
  
"There he is. Who is he, and how did he get here?" Lorrie asked, one hand holding a quarterstaff. "I know he's not a vampire…"  
  
"Vampire?" The teen glanced from Faith to Lorrie for just a moment, his eyes returning to the knife. "I'm not a vampire! They aren't even real. I don't even know how I got here."  
  
"Somehow, I think you must have more of an idea than we do." Tanya peered around Lorrie. "Now, if we can all calm down and talk like civilized people? What is your name?"  
  
"I'm Pyro. And I was just… There was a door that I didn't remember seeing before. But I don't think this… Something's weird about this." He slowly stood up, moving a bit farther away from Faith.  
  
"A door?" Tanya blinked, and then with an expression that Faith could only describe as 'aha!' she looked more closely at the boy. "By any chance did you end up on the third floor of my house?"  
  
"I guess the thing does go both ways." Faith muttered, relaxing slightly, just enough not to look really threatening. She didn't trust the kid to be safe, but there was no point in looking like she was about to attack him at any minute.  
  
"Yeah. And I just about killed myself on those stairs, got down here, tripped, and she" He pointed at Lorrie, scowling a little. "She tried to grab me, boxes fell… What's in those anyhow? Bricks?"  
  
"Books." Lorrie muttered, suddenly looking upset again. "Lots of big, old books with leather covers."  
  
"Those things are lethal." He rubbed at his shoulder. "So… this isn't Xavier's, so where am I?"  
  
"About twenty miles south of Hallsboro, North Carolina." Tanya's dry comment carried well in the quiet house. "Hallsboro is a bit south of Route 76."  
  
"None of this is meaning anything to you, is it?" Lorrie asked, her grip on the quarterstaff relaxing as she seemingly decided that he guy wasn't a threat.  
  
"North Carolina?" Pyro gasped, his jaw dropping. "But… but I'm supposed to be in New York. At the school."  
  
"Mort definitely got the door working then, didn't he?" Lorrie chuckled. "Can we have cocoa?"  
  
Pyro gave a slightly nervous smile and scuttled closer to Lorrie and Tanya. "Right… Cocoa, and no knives. Oh man, what happens if the teachers find out that I'm missing?"  
  
Faith tensed again, hoping that nobody would blame Mort for this. If he was trying to get help, this could seriously complicate matters… She sighed, and made her way into the kitchen, placing the knife on the counter, next to a good place to lean. "Hate to break this to you, Pyro, but vamps are real."  
  
"Hah. Probably just freaked out over some strong mutant." His sullen mutter didn't quite go unheard by anyone.  
  
"I know what a vampire is. And while there might be mutants whoa re as strong as they are, if there's a mutant that goes around ripping people's throats open to drink the blood and kill people, then they deserve to get it too!" Faith growled, resisting the urge to pick the boy up and shake him like a rag doll.  
  
"There's no such thing as vampires! Or demons, or magic wands. None of that's real." He glared right back.  
  
Something thumped against the front door. Faith also realized that part of her increasing temper came from the feeling of vampires nearby. Not close enough to really demand her attention, but… Yeah, close enough to throw rocks at the house.  
  
end part 35.  
  
Faith moved towards the window, leaving the knife on the counter. "Lorrie? How good are you with the crossbow?"  
  
Peering out the window, Faith could see three figures, one of which was holding another rock. Two had the vampire ridges, while the third wore a hat pulled down low enough that she couldn't tell what he looked like. They were pretty obviously minions, and they looked amused. Amused was never good from vampires.  
  
"Why?" Lorrie's voice was muffled as she searched in one of the cupboards.  
  
"Who put the crossbow up there? There's three minions on the front yard. If I go out, can you cover me?" Faith glanced over at Lorrie, and then to Tanya before pulling a stake from the drawer full of dish towels. "The cupboard? Bad idea, you can never find what you need in there in a hurry."  
  
"I'm a good shot. You won't have to worry about that. Now, if I can just find the… Got it." Lorie grinned as she pulled the crossbow down, preparing it to fire.  
  
"Uhh… Have either of you considered having a nice, long talk with a shrink?" Pyro was staring at them, looking rather uneasy.  
  
"As if that would help…" Lorrie muttered. "Ready when you are, Faith."  
  
Faith opened the door and stepped out, reflecting that Lorrie's words would have sounded a lot better without the little 'I hope' at the end. She took a deep breath, and smiled at the vampires. "You got so bored with being someone's flunkies that you came here to die?"  
  
"Give us the girl, and nobody will be hurt." The vampire with the rock snarled, his fangs the only thing preventing him from looking like a blandly ordinary farmer. "Well, not too badly hurt anyways."  
  
"Somehow, I don't believe you." Faith tried to figure out who'd move first. She was betting on Farm-Boy and his rock, but the other one, a guy with a faded shirt with a picture of some Country music singer looked rather fidgety. Probably a short attention span. The wild card would be the guy in the hat, he seemed quieter, a lot more controlled.  
  
She wasn't even surprised when the rock that had been in farmer-vamp's hand came hurtling towards her head. She just twisted out of it's way, smirking as the Country-fan charged at her, his hands reaching out as if he expected to wring her neck, like the stories of old time farmers killing their chickens. Faith lunged forward, the stake plunging into his chest, yanking it back out before it could fall to dust with him.  
  
Inside the house, she could hear Pyro's startled yelp. "What the… He just fell apart!"  
  
There was the sound of the crossbow being fired, and then the sound of the bolt sinking into flesh. With a startled "Hey!" the rock throwing vampire crumbled, leaving only the one in the hat.  
  
He looked at her, and his eyes were glowing yellow, not just the normal vamp eyes. He grinned, and his teeth looked far sharper and more menacing than any normal vampire. "Very good. You must be a Slayer. The Lady grows frustrated. She wants the door, and believes that you are her only obstacle. I do not think that she will give up her quest."  
  
"And you're here to make sure that she gets what she wants?" Faith asked, feeling a bit nervous. This guy… he didn't feel more than a century old, but he was strong.  
  
He chuckled, and tucked one hand into the pocket of his pants. "No, Slayer. I'm here in this yard because those piles of dust were too stupid to read a map correctly. I'm here in this town to watch what happens to the Lady. What I want… I'm here to make certain that she gets what she deserves."  
  
"What? What she deserves?" Faith was trying to puzzle out what the vampire meant as he tipped his hat politely, and turned away from her, walking back towards a dark sedan in the driveway. His hand emerged from his pocket with a jingling set of keys, and he just calmly walked to the car and drove away.  
  
"Things are getting even weirder." Faith shivered, and decided to go back in the house.  
  
End part 36.  
  
Faith stepped back into the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind her. "Things are officially getting even weirder."  
  
"Those two… their faces. And they crumbled into dust." Pyro was looking at her, his eyes wide with fear and something else. "Those were… they were really… vampires?"  
  
"Yeah." Faith sighed, and made her way towards the stove. Another cup of cocoa sounded good about now. "Hat-vamp isn't right, he's… Something about him is off. I just wish I knew what it was, and how badly it's going to bite us when we find out."  
  
Suddenly, the whole house began to shake and rattle, as if a storm was blowing outside. Gusts of wind were coming down the stairwell, and they could hear things falling and papers rattling as they skittered and darted along hallways. It didn't seem natural.  
  
"What's going on?!?" Tanya shouted, rushing to turn off the stove.  
  
From upstairs, there was the sound of a door slamming shut, and the wind suddenly stopped.  
  
"Whoa." Lorrie blinked, and looked at the things that had been blown in. "Since when are there indoor windstorms?"  
  
"Ummm…. " Pyro shifted a little, trying to avoid eye contact with anybody.  
  
"This is going to be fun to clean up." Tanya's words were filled with exhaustion.  
  
"I guess she did remember me." Mort's voice was welcome as he stepped into view.  
  
"Hey! You're back." Faith grinned, darting over to give him a hug. "What was all of that about?"  
  
"Remember that I said the people in New York… well… One of them tried to blow me away. Wind, not guns. I barely managed to get through the door… Who's he?" Mort was now looking at Pyro.  
  
"He said his name's Pyro. I think he's one of the students from that school. Apparently, he slipped through the door while you were out." Tanya sighed, and began fixing Mort a cup of cocoa as well.  
  
"Okay, I'll just go back through this door, and everything will be normal again." Pyro stood up, and put down his mug.   
  
"Sorry, it's not working again. The lights went out as soon as I closed it. You're stuck here for a while." Mort shrugged, not looking very sorry at all.  
  
"I thought that stupid thing wouldn't open this morning?" Faith glanced over to her boyfriend.  
  
"This morning it wouldn't. But just a bit after sunset, it started working again." Mort shrugged. "Of course, the lights went out after I closed it, just lie they did after the Statue of Liberty."  
  
"Of course!" Tanya exclaimed. "That actually makes sense. It's called the Door to the Heavens, right? So, if it only works at night, when you can see the heavens… See the stars."  
  
"Yeah, it does make sense." Faith nodded, and then looked back at Pyro. "So, what do we do with him?"  
  
"There really isn't much room for discussion. If we can't send him back through the door, then he'll simply have to stay here tonight. The vampires make it too dangerous for the boy to try to leave, even if he is a mutant." Tanya handed Mort his cocoa, and sat back down. "We really need to get more of the rooms fixed."   
  
"You want me to stay here tonight? In a house with one of Magneto's followers, a crazy woman who goes out to fight vampires, and someone else who shoots people with crossbows?" Pyro sounded stunned.  
  
"Ex follower." Mort grumbled at the same time that Lorrie insisted "I only shot one person, and he was a vampire!"  
  
"I'm supposed to fight vampires. It's my job. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not crazy… no more than any other Slayer. I mean, it's not like I talk to…" Faith froze, considering the words that she had almost said. But they weren't true. She did talk to dead people, at least in her dreams. Dick and Mellie, her messed up parental figures. Trembling, she walked out of the kitchen, determined that if she was going to struggle not to have a teary eyes fit of 'am I crazy?' that it wouldn't be in front of the boy.  
  
Mort's hand touched her arm, gently. "Faith… You aren't alone. I'm here for you."  
  
"What if he's…" She closed her eyes, hating the way she felt. Feeling vulnerable, afraid. It wasn't something that she could go out and slay, or something that she could just check a few numbers and pronounce wrong. Insanity. Dead people talked to her in her dreams, and sometimes she dreamed hints of the future.  
  
"You aren't crazy." Mort faced her, his eyes serious. "Scarred by what you've seen and done, perhaps, but not crazy."  
  
"You almost sounded like Giles for a moment there." Faith whispered, trying to muster a bit of a smile.  
  
Mort shrugged, amusement in his eyes. "Why, is he a sexy, green British man?"  
  
"Well, British, and a man, but not green. He's not to bad for an older guy, but I definitely prefer you." She leaned towards him, kissing his lips gently. She relaxed as she leaned against him, thankful that she wasn't alone, that she had Mort. "How'd the trip go?"  
  
"I told Xavier about the problem. Whether he believed me… I'm not sure. But at least he listened to what I had to say." Mort sighed, and leaned his forehead against hers. "Of course, things got messy on the way back to the Door. There she was, and she saw me… at least there were no lightning bolts this time."  
  
Faith chuckled, part of her thinking that it really wasn't that funny. "I guess neither one of us has fun with the idea of facing the past. I'm just really glad that my contact with the people who knew me before was just email."  
  
"Yeah, well… Might as well check and see if they had anything useful to send you." He let his arm slide around her shoulder, and then muttered "Unless the wind messed up the computer, that is."  
  
end part 37. 


	18. parts 38 and 39

Faith tried to ignore the boy as she went towards the computer. He probably wasn't too much younger than she was, but he felt younger, as if he hadn't seen as much, suffered as much, been petrified as much. Granted, that could have been deceiving, but it was the impression she got. Lorrie was trying to explain about vampires and demons being real, and he was apparently taking it pretty hard. Maybe he'd be able to cope with it, and maybe he'd just try to repress the whole visit.

Papers had blown everywhere, but the computer hadn't fallen to the floor, and seemed to be just fine when she turned it on. Grinning, she connected to the internet, and decided to check for any new emails. A few moments later, Faith sighed, deleting something written in weird computer symbols, an advertisement for Spanish travel discounts, three variations on discount drugs, a 'barely legal teens' porn ad, and something about 'cheep health insurnse' from somebody identified as 'grtiplnnnzt.

There as one from Willow. Taking a deep breath, Faith opened it.

To: BackFromtheDark5x5…

From: RedRose99…

Subject: Re: Problems

Hey Faith

Giles said that he'd heard of the Door somewhere, muttered something about Ethan and strange herbs, and pulled out a big stack of books. We've found a couple mentions, and apparently, it's some impressive thing that has to be made along specific rituals, takes years to build, and lots of mojo. Good news – no death or blood sacrifice required. When the circumstances are right – no, we haven't found what that means – it can open to other places, permit spirits to pass through, and 'do wondrous thynges.' Important thing – it can't be moved without a lot more mojo and some big precautions. Well, it can, but then it's just a door and not magical anymore, so that doesn't count.

But we've got some weird problems here, some nasty stuff, so we have to try to prevent a baddie from making an army of demonic hybrid cyborgs, so I have no idea how much we'll be able to look into this Door for you.

Xander turned red and muttered something that I couldn't decipher, and his girlfriend – I don't think you met Anya – demands that I a) thank you for teaching him how to give good orgasms and b) tell you that if you try to make another play for him she'll cause your intestines to turn into a writhing mass of half starved vipers. To which I said eeewwww. That's Anya.

Buffy's… umm. Buffy's not happy, and I think that's all I'm going to say. Joyce says to take care of yourself and send her a postcard if you're not going to be coming back.

And there's a lawyer trying to find you. Something about you being mentioned in the final will and testament of Mayor Wilkins? He gave me a card, and there's an email. I don't know what that's all about. SPritchard Wolfram&Hart . law if you want to contact him. (Spaced so the internet doesn't hide it for you.)

Willow

Faith grinned, feeling slightly better. It wasn't much, and really didn't tell her much new about the door, but it was a sign that she was being given a cautious chance, at least from Red and Giles. They were the ones who could do the research part anyhow. She didn't remember the name 'Anya' at all, and she sounded rather strangely vicious, but hey… Good to hear Xander was moving onwards with life. A writhing mass of half starved vipers… Vicious and vindictive sounding. Fortunately, she had Mort, and didn't need to go back to Sunnydale or make a play for Xander again.

Leaning back, she pondered the rest of what Willow had written. A lawyer was looking for her. Did that mean… Dick had mentioned something about putting her in his will, leaving his stuff to her. Was the lawyer his? Maybe if she met him in another dream, she could ask. An army of demon hybrid cyborgs… She decided not to ask, some things were just too bizarre sounding.

Yawning, she went upstairs, glancing at the lump that was Pyro under blankets on the uncomfortable couch, and shook her head. Life was weird sometimes. She'd feel better snuggled up next to Mort.

End part 38.

Faith leaned back, the leather of the chair creaking even as it spun around. It was probably the best thing about Dick's office, and she grinned as he tried to line up the shot for the golf ball and the little cup. Putting her hands behind her head, she waited.

"I'm still not sure that he's good enough for you." Dick's voice was calm as he putted the golf ball, missing by about a half inch to the left.

"Any particular reason?" Faith asked, realizing that he had to be meaning Mort. "He seems pretty nice, and he's not leaving me to go Slaying on my own."

"I suppose there is that." Dick sighed, and shook his head. "He's very useful for backup. But are you really sure that you want to involve yourself with a petty criminal and illegal immigrant?"

Leaning forward, Faith picked up a cookie and a glass of milk. "Would it be better if he was an illegal immigrant and criminal mastermind?"

"Absolutely. Why not go for the top?" He grinned, and picked up his own glass of milk.

"Because Magneto's old, shriveled up, and in prison?" Faith joked. "Besides, I don't know if he'd count me as human or mutant. Where do Slayers fall anyhow?"

"Hummph." He sipped at the milk. "Is this properly pasteurized?"

"You're dead, and this is a dream. I don't think you need to worry about germs anymore." Faith murmured. "Wait, there was something I wanted to ask you. Your lawyer, was it someone at Wolfram & Hart? Pritchard?"

"Yes, Saul Pritchard. The best lawyer that I've ever had, and he's been managing my accounts for eighty years now. Maybe there's something about that inheritance." He looked smug.

"I'll have to talk to him after we get this Door to Heaven and Mistress Vamp thing solved." Faith rubbed at her head, her fingers feeling cool from the glass of milk. "I just hope we don't need to read some book in a language nobody reads."

"Don't worry, Faith. I've got a few connections left, and I'm trying to arrange something." He patted her hand gently.

The dream faded, and Faith snuggled closer to Mort.

Eventually, morning came, and Faith dragged herself out of bed, shuffling towards breakfast. Pyro was still there, not quite as irritating. Maybe he was just still half asleep, or maybe Lorrie was having a good effect on him after all. It was quiet as they ate eggs and toast.

"If someone else could get the dishes, I'm going into town to pick up a few things. A newspaper, and more coffee and bandages." Tanya stated.

As her words were met with various noises and nods, Tanya left, the keys to the car jangling in her hands.

"So, a school just for mutants?" Lorrie asked. "Are there a lot of people there?"

"Not really." Pyro shrugged, looking back at his plate. "There aren't too many mutants, and a lot of people are scared of us."

"You don't seem scary to me." Lorrie offered, a small smile on her face. "And apparently not to Faith either."

Pyro winced. "Yeah, the knife and glare was a give a way to that."

"So, if you're a mutant, what's so different about you? Besides being a bit cuter than average?" Lorrie asked.

Faith blinked, and looked at Mort, whispering a question. "Is it just me, or is she flirting?"

"She is, she is." He shook his head, and peered into his empty coffee mug. "Need a refill?"

Pyro produced his lighter, and flicked his thumb over it with the smooth motion that suggested lots of practice. A wisp of amber flame popped up, and as he looked at it, it leapt away from the lighter, turning into a birdlike shape. Soaring around the table, it left a ripple of warm air in its wake. Smugly, he explained, "I play with fire."

"Ohhh." Lorrie was staring at the bird. "Cool."

"I bet that would be handy against vamps." Faith agreed, watching the little firebird. It certainly explained the lighter that he'd had when running from Tanya and Lorrie. Obviously, he was a lot more dangerous than he looked. "They're flammable, and fire's one of the ways to kill them. It works for most demons, but they tend not to burn as easy."

"And this has turned into a really freaky breakfast conversation." He tucked the lighter back into his pocket, and allowed the bird to wisp away into nothingness. He stared at the last corner of toast. "I thought it was strange enough to be a mutant. To have people freaking out over that. But the only mutant here is him, and nobody's freaking out yet, not about the mutant part. Now, you're telling me about vampires and demons, and that's just… "

"Strange and scary beyond words?" Lorrie offered. "I remember when I first learned about scary stuff out there. Of course, I was only eight."

"I don't care if you're a mutant." Faith offered. "I don't even care if you're human, as long as you don't cause me any problems."

"Which brings me back to the demons are weird part." He muttered. "So, a magic door brought me here? Why?"

"Mort popped though it to try to talk to someone. He left it open because otherwise he'd be stuck over there, and the reception might be a little too warm for his liking." Faith shrugged. "You wandered in, and here you are."

"But why was he over there?" Pyro asked.

"There's a vampire trying to create an army." Faith spoke, the words low and soft. "She's decided that vampires made from mutants will be superior and more effective troops, so she's hunting them."

"And killing them." Mort added.

"Ahhh." Pyro shivered. "Yikes. So you… the Professor?"

"He listened, I just don't know if he believed me." Mort explained.

"It sounds pretty far fetched, except that I saw those guys turn to dust last night." Pyro muttered.

"Yeah, that does have a tendency to give a bit of weight to the idea of vampires." Mort agreed.

The rest of the morning seemed fairly quiet, with Lorrie and Pyro sort of flirting as they washed the dishes and Faith and Mort trying to put back into order the scattered papers and boxes from last night.

"I'm still a bit worried about hat-vamp." Faith admitted.

"Hat-vamp?" Mort repeated, one eyebrow raising. "That can't be his name."

Faith smirked. "We didn't do introductions. He just said that he was there because the idiot minions couldn't read a map, and that he wanted to make sure the Mistress got what she deserved."

"Is that supposed to be good for her, or revenge?" Mort asked.

Faith paused. "Come to think of it, I don't really know."

"It could make a big difference." Mort offered. "If he's…well, he's probably not on our side regardless, but if he's not on her side…"

"That would be nice." Faith agreed. "He felt pretty strong. And his eyes were glowing, so he's definitely not your average vamp."

"A mutant?"

"Maybe. Or possibly a mage." Faith shook her head. "We have to remember that he's dangerous, and not our friend. And she's definitely dangerous, willing to kill horribly, and now she knows where we're living."

"That can't be good." Mort grumbled.

"I know. So, back to the roof for us?" Faith cracked her knuckles, and picked up a hammer. "We might as well work on fixing the house while we worry."

End part 39.


	19. parts 40 and 41

Faith and Mort had made some decent progress on the section of roof that they were working on, having finished stripping the old shingles and gotten a good start on putting up the new ones and nailing them into place. The sound of a car made them glance over, and Faith felt a bit relieved to see Tanya's dusty blue car5 driving up to the house. "I guess she's got her paper and stuff."

"She's not carrying anything into the house yet." Faith frowned, and gestured towards Tanya. "Does it look like something's got her upset to you?"

"Definitely worried." Mort agreed, and then picked the nail-gun back up. "You go talk to her, and I'll keep working on the roof."

Faith stood up, walking to the overhang beside the portion that only went over the second story and jumped from over the attic to over the second floor, and then walked along that until she could jump to the ground. It was something that she'd never want to try if she wasn't the Slayer, but that super strength was good for a bit more than hitting demons. "Hey, Tanya, what's going on? You look tense."

"Do vampires ever have human minions? Or maybe demons that can look human?" Tanya asked, frowning to herself.

"Not normally. Why?" Faith asked.

"I had to stop in the library, there was a book in my glove-box that had to go back, and there was this guy in the library." She paused, as if trying to gather her thoughts. "He was close to Mort's height, with dark hair and glasses. He was wearing dark clothing that seemed almost normal but… I can't quite explain it better than he didn't quite match. He was looking over the newspapers, and I'm certain that I heard him muttering about demonic activity and something about a Karcer demon."

"Which means..?" Faith probed, already certain that this guy had to know something. It would be too much to assume that he was just some role-playing game wacko who couldn't remember to separate reality from fantasy. But was he working for the dark side, or against it?

"I think, from your descriptions and some of those books we looked through, that the Karcer demon is what interrupted you and Mort's date and threw Lorrie's Watcher into the apple tree." Tanya sighed, and then frowned, turning around to go back towards the car. "And I left everything in the car. I'm too distracted. Help me carry things while I fret?"

"Sure thing." Faith agreed, and pulled out the first bag, filled with bulky packages of coffee. "So, do you want me to head back into town with you to check this guy out? I think there are some types of demon that can pass as human if they're careful, so it's a possibility."

"I think we should get everything inside first." Tanya decided, and then sighed. "I suppose that Lorrie and the boy, what sort of name is Pyro anyhow? I guess they can stay here while we go. It shouldn't take that long to try to determine if the man's a threat, should it?"

"Pyro's Latin for fire, I think. Or maybe that was Greek… I guess he must have decided that he liked it better than whatever name his parents gave him. Some parents can give some pretty miserable names to their kids, you know. I knew someone named Sunshine, and someone else named Gertrude. Some names just… there's a reason they aren't used anymore, you know?" Faith offered.

"I know. I actually knew someone named Puggsley once." Tanya shook her head. "He hated his name, and I couldn't blame him for it. Why don't you let Mort know where I'm taking you, wash your hands, and I'll put these things away. Then we can go back and find out why someone's looking into Karcer demons."

"Sounds good to me." Faith agreed, and made her way back to the roof.

"What's going on with Tanya?" Mort asked, wiping at his forehead with a cloth. "She looked worried."

"She said someone's at the library, and she thinks that he's looking into the weirdness." Faith shrugged, and leaned over to give Mort a kiss. "She want me to go with and try to check out if he's weird human guy or human looking demon."

"There's demons who can do that?" Mort asked, one eyebrow lifting.

"Close enough, one way or another." Faith commented, and rolled her shoulders before glancing back at the car. "I'm going to clean up a bit and go back into town with her to find out. Besides, even if he is human, which he might not be, he could still be trouble."

"Damn right. Before I met you, I would have said especially if he's human, but…" Mort let the words trail away, a shrug indicating that he still found it hard to put the whole demon thing into words. "Be careful."

"Of course." Faith grinned at him, and dropped back to the second floor roof, and then inside through an open window. She just hoped that it would be as easy to be careful as she wanted it to sound.

End part 40.

It didn't take Faith long to get cleaned up, and by then, Tanya had brought everything inside. She could hear Lorrie and Pyro talking about the television, and which of the limited channels would be better to watch. Trying not to snicker, she asked, "Are we ready to go then?"

"I am if you are." Tanya murmured, picking her car keys back up.

"I'm five by five here." Faith smirked, and held out her arms while turning around. "Do the weapons show?"

"No, though I must say that this is the first time I've been asked that before taking someone anywhere with me." Tanya offered a small smile, and headed for the door. "So, I guess we go back and hope that he hasn't vanished while I was away from town."

"Yeah." Faith slid into the car, sighing. There wasn't anything else that she could do right now, and she hated that feeling. Maybe someone would find something on the Door, or about the Mistress Vamp. She'd even be happy for something on hat-vamp. Or a reason why they couldn't just pop Pyro back through the door and have him out from underfoot. But no, all she could do was wait, and Faith hated waiting.

In reality, it was probably only fifteen or twenty minutes before they were pulling into a parking place along the street, just down a bit from the library. The street was lined with the normal assortment of cars and trucks, and one dark motorcycle. Faith raised her eyebrow at that, certain that she hadn't seen it before, and wondering if it was the mystery-guy's ride. He was sounding more interesting already.

"Yes, that motorcycle probably goes with the man in question." Tanya agreed, noticing the direction of Faith's gaze. "Now, last I knew, he was in the library, not the bar or standing here, so shall we go inside?"

"Yeah, let's go." Faith nodded, and stepped towards the library. "Might as well figure out what we can relatively quick."

They stepped into the little library, and Faith had no trouble finding the man Tanya had meant. He was situated at a table, frowning over a stack of newspapers. As soon as she saw him, her jaw dropped, and Faith felt rather stunned. "No way…"

"Faith?" Tanya asked, one hand touching Faith's elbow. 'Is something wrong?"

"That can't be him." Faith shook her head, and looked again. The man still looked exactly the same. Short dark hair, a leather jacket over black jeans, and unmistakably looking just like, "Wesley Wyndham-Price?"

He spun around, the newspaper dropping to the floor with a slithery flutter, and blinked at her. "Faith?"

"Oh boy." Faith muttered. She couldn't believe that this was actually Wesley. He looked so different than he had in Sunnydale. And for that matter, why wasn't he still in Sunnydale, or back in England? He couldn't be the 'something in the works' that Dick had meant, could he?

"So, he's not a demon, then?" Tanya murmured, her voice too low for Wesley to hear.

"No. He's a Watcher. The young one that got sent to Sunnydale, remember? Except…" Faith swallowed, and tried to will the surprise away. "He didn't look like that in Sunnydale."

"Isn't this awkward then?" Tanya commented, with a tight smile. "Shall we go talk about things somewhere else?"

"That… yeah, that would be good, Tanya." Faith agreed, still feeling dazed.

"Where shall we talk then?" Wesley replied, even sounding less uptight than she remembered from Sunnydale.

"Just follow us, we can talk at the park." Tanya decided.

End part 41.


	20. parts 42 to 44

Faith couldn't keep from fidgeting as Tanya drove them to the little park. As parks went, it wasn't much, just a little building with half walls and a roof, a couple picnic tables inside, and a sandy area with a pair of poles so that a volley ball net could be strung across. But it was empty, and they could talk there without freaking out the rest of the town.

"Remember to breathe, Faith. He's not going to attack you, and even if he did, you could handle that." Tanya murmured. "Now, why don't we go sit down, and then we can exchange a few answers."

Faith nodded, knowing that Tanya's suggestion was good, and sensible, and all that. But she still felt nervous as they walked to the tables, even as Wesley, on that sleek motorcycle, arrived at the park and followed them to the shelter. Her stomach felt all knotted. Why was he here? Were there other Watchers?

"So, Tanya, that's Wesley, and this is Tanya. You both know who I am, so how about we skip to why you're here, Wes?" Faith asked, trying to hide her nervousness. She hadn't told Tanya much of what had happened in Sunnydale, only that she'd fallen under a bad influence and done things that she shouldn't have, but what if Wesley told her?

He sighed, and leaned one elbow on the table. "After Sunnydale, and the whole… mess, I was fired from the Council."

"Fired?" Faith blinked, surprised. She hadn't even considered that a Watcher could be fired. For that matter, what could a Watcher do with the rest of their life? "Can they do that?"

"I can't say that the Council particularly surprises me." Tanya sniffed. "They abandoned my uncle, and ignored his efforts to communicate with them. He gave them his whole life, and they… Ah well, I shouldn't rant."

"They did." Wesley sighed, and almost slumped before pulling himself straight. "Now, I'm a rogue demon hunter, answerable to nobody but myself."

Faith blinked, and then looked at him. "You had nothing else to do with your life and no way to get another job, huh?"

"err, well, I'm sure I could have figured something out." Wesley stammered, his face turning pink. "I may not have been the best Watcher, but I couldn't just walk away."

"You aren't in Sunnydale either." Her voice was soft.

"I could accomplish nothing there. You didn't listen, and neither did Buffy." He clenched his jaw, and was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Unlike some of the Council, I want to help. I want to stop demons from eating people and trying to destroy the earth. So, I'm trying to do what I can."

"He could probably read the rest of those books." Tanya murmured, her expression thoughtful. "The ones that we figured out were German and whatever that other one was? If there's information in them, maybe he could help us. Before She gets her hands on it."

"She? Who do you mean?" Wesley asked, glancing from Faith to Tanya and back to Faith.

"The evil head vamp. She's a woman, with big plans, and she wants an object. We don't want her to get it, but we don't know too much about it." Faith shrugged, and then sighed. "I don't even know who she is, or how old."

"What do we know about her?" Wesley offered.

"We?" Tanya asked, one eyebrow lifting.

"I'd like to offer my assistance." Wesley spoke, his gaze firm even as he turned a bit pink. "Perhaps I am not the best fighter, but I have no desire to stand aside and bemoan the state of the world today."

Faith bit her lip, considering him. He'd been pretty bad in Sunnydale, but if he wanted to help them, maybe she should think about it. It wasn't like they had a lot of offers for help to sort through, and if he could translate something about the Door… If he could adjust to things, the way she was trying to adjust her life back into order, maybe. "I don't play by the Handbook rules."

"I don't think you ever did." He replied. "What, in specific, are you hoping I don't object to?"

"Mort." Faith replied, her arms crossing defensively. "He's my boyfriend."

For a moment, Wesley was silent, looking deep in thought. "I suppose a steady boyfriend might be something of a stabilizing influence for you."

"He's a mutant." Faith said, expecting Wesley to go funny colored and start stammering objections.

"Mmmm. I suppose that's fine. After all, someone entirely normal would probably bore you to tears after a few hours." He frowned, and then added, "He might have some useful abilities that could be of benefit."

Tanya was looking amused, and tried to hide her smile behind her hand as Faith glanced around the shelter, trying to think of anything else that Wesley might object to. If he was going to have his prissy fit, best find out fast and get him out of the way. "Then there's Lorrie."

"Lorrie?" He asked, his face politely blank.

"She's a potential Slayer, and the Vamp Lady had her minions kill her Watcher. She wanted him to tell her about the Door." Faith replied. "Right, the evil vamp is trying to make herself an army of mutant vampires to take over the world with."

"Then we have to stop her." Wesley countered. "Stop looking for reasons to send me away, and let's go find these books so that I might be able to find something useful."

"Damn, but time away from Sunnydale has helped you out a lot." Faith murmured. She felt a bit dazed by the differences. She'd been afraid there would be another threat, and instead, they found the new, improved version of Wesley.

"Yes, well…" He stood up, preparing to go back to the motorcycle. "I believe it's called growing up. If you ladies would lead the way?"

end part 42.

She couldn't quite believe it. Wesley had changed so much, at least on the first glance. He was dressing differently, and didn't move in that same awkward fashion. He had picked up a few little scars on his hands, and she'd caught a glimpse of a healing cut under his shirt sleeve. Wesley had sounded perfectly fine about the whole mutant issue, like it wasn't a problem at all, and she just couldn't make that match up with the uptight arrogant book-bound twit from Sunnydale.

"Faith? Anything that you'd care to share?" Tanya's voice brought Faith's attention back to the car.

"He seems so different." Faith explained, not certain how else to describe it. "He's dressed different, he looks like he knows what he's doing, and he doesn't' sound like an uptight ass."

"All of which, are good changes, aren't they?" She offered, glancing at Faith out of the corner of her eye, mainly watching the road ahead of them.

"Yeah, they sound good. But when… how did it happen? What sort of parallel world am I in where Wesley's going to be of use?" Faith said, hoping to convey her confusion.

"You were in a coma for eight months, and spent a little more than another one traveling before you met me, right?" Tanya began, her words thoughtful.

"Right." Faith wondered where Tanya was going with this, but she had a few ideas. Something about time and people changing, and giving him a chance… But it was Wesley.

"If what he said is true, while you were comatose in a hospital bed, he was fired from the only job he'd ever expected, had no purpose left in the town that he was in, far from home or any form of support, and he's been forced to fend for himself in all regards for the last nine months. To be blunt, if he's telling the truth, he's had to grow up, and fast. He wouldn't have had anyone else to fight the demons or vampires, and nobody to call of for research with the Council abandoning him." Tanya sounded thoughtful, but as if there was something else troubling her.

"He was out in the sunshine, he couldn't have got vamped." Faith insisted. "Vampires and sunshine give you dust piles. What else could there be?"

"Either he grew up, or…" Tanya shook her head. "I suppose that James Bond movie marathon was a mistake. The odds of him being some sort of sleeper agent are absurd."

"Yea, absurd." Faith repeated, her mind spinning. Sunnydale couldn't have been faked, could it? Nobody could be that good at playing inept, could they? Or had he been given an assisted crash course, and set out to find her… No, that was equally ridiculous. Nobody had been set out to find her, because nobody had known where she would be. She hadn't even known where she would end up.

She glanced at the mirror, her eyes focusing on the motorcycle following them. She was a Slayer, if he turned out to be trouble… Her conscience was already heavy, eliminating a danger that happened to be human wouldn't really make anything worse. Just as long as she let him prove that he was a danger first. She could wait and watch, and in the mean time, maybe he could find something in the books.

"I just hope he's on the level with us." She whispered.

End part 43.

They made it back to the farmhouse without any additional surprises. She could see Mort up on the roof, doing something. There was motion, resolving itself into another two figures, slightly smaller. "Guess that answers the question of what did Lorrie and Pyro do while we were gone. Mort has them up on the roof with him."

Wesley pulled in behind them, parking his motorcycle near Mort's. He walked towards them, and it was impossible for Faith to believe that hew as the same in Sunnydale. There were too many changes. He still had the same features, but a completely new amount of self confidence, and the way that he moved… No, Wesley hadn't been like this in Sunnydale. This Wesley could be dangerous.

"The books are in the library." Tanya explained, walking towards the house. She didn't offer any further invitations, simply unlocking the front door and walking inside.

"I'm not a bloody vampire." Wesley grumbled, not quite faint enough to escape Faith's notice.

Smothering a chuckle, Faith waved at Mort, and then followed Tanya and Wesley inside. Might as well find out what the Watcher reaction to the library would be. Maybe he'd be able to explain why Uncle Eli had left weapons laying about absolutely everywhere? Did they try to teach paranoia at Watcher School?

"Do I want to know why there's a crossbow sitting beside the sink?" Wesley murmured, glancing at it.

"It took too long to find it in the cupboards." Tanya replied absently. "And as Faith pointed out, it was useless in the bathroom."

"The bathroom? Why would you have a crossbow in the bathroom?" He blinked. "Never mind, you said there were books."

"Up the stairs, and watch your step." Tanya explained, even as she was leading the way. "We haven't got the wiring fixed yet, so the lights are a bit dim in the hallway."

Wesley didn't say anything until he stepped into the library, and then he made this little noise. It wasn't anything coherent, but it just sounded way happier than a room full of books should make a person. He moved inside the room, fingertips brushing lightly over the spines of demon indexes and books of prophecy. He sighed as he touched volumes with labels in something other than English, and almost purred as he lifted a small book bound in dark blue. "Quite the collection."

"Damn, who knew that old books work like catnip on Watchers?" Faith joked, looking at Wesley and Tanya.

"The ones that we think might have something about the door are over here." Tanya said, her lips twitching at Faith's joke. "I'll help you look, and Faith can go back to helping with the roof."

"Right, fine with me." Faith insisted, backing out of the room. "I'll leave you two to the old books, and I'll just go toss old shingles to the ground."

Faith made her way towards a window, planning to just go out to the lower portion of the roof and then up, and paused. Tanya was just trying to keep an eye on him and find the information, right? She couldn't be interested in Wesley, could she?

Shaking her head, Faith slipped out the window. If Tanya was interested, fine, it was her life. At least she would have someone ho would understand why her uncle had such strange books. And if he hurt Tanya, there were plenty of ways to get rid of bodies. She was sure that she could find that giant snapping turtle again, if she needed a body to go away. Of course, if he'd made an impression like this back in Sunnydale, a lot of things would have turned out very differently.

Smiling at Mort, Faith gave him a hug. "Hey there. We may have help. Turns out the guy looking into things in town was Wesley Wyndham-Price, the junior Watcher from Sunnydale. Tanya's got him in the library looking through the books."

"So, I can probably get home some time soon?" Pyro asked, wiping at his forehead. "I can think of more enjoyable things to do that re-roofing a house."

"Probably." Faith agreed. "But you might as well stay for dinner."

Lorrie smiled, and reached over, her fingers brushing his elbow. "Please? I'd like the company."

"Sure." He was grinning at Lorrie. "All this work is making me hungry."

Mort made a choking noise, and pointed at the pair of them. "I know that I was never that sappy, or that obvious in my flirting."

"Yeah, it is pretty sweet." Faith paused, and shook her head. "Almost nauseatingly sweet."

Lorrie just stuck her tongue out. "Give it a rest, Faith. You're imagining things. I'm not… It's not like I'm… Oh, never mind."

Faith just looked at Mort and grinned.

End part 44.


	21. parts  45 and 46

Faith walked into the sitting room, surprised to see Mort and Pyro apparently having a rather heated, if low-volume, discussion. Whatever they were talking about had Pyro making expansive gestures, and his one hand was a tight fist.

"Hey guys," Faith commented, smirking as they both twitched. "Don't force me to call you liars by trying to pull some lame excuse for the pow-wow."

Mort just chuckled, "I wouldn't want that. Would you settle for 'it doesn't involve you', or would you still try to get more details?"

Faith shrugged, and settled for sitting on a chair. "That depends on how big of an impact it will have on my future. I rather like having one, and I want to keep it."

Pyro nodded, muttering, "same with me."

"How goes the library efforts?" Mort asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Picture a cat introduced to catnip, and substitute a guy for the cat and a bunch of old books for the catnip," Faith paused to let them both snicker. "I have no idea if they've found anything useful, but either the pair of them are getting really friendly, or they're busily looking through the books. Just in case, I didn't open the door."

Pyro chuckled, and then murmured, "I'm not too sure that I want to go back."

Mort blinked, and made a small noise, "ehhh?"

"To Xavier's, I mean," Pyro was focused on his hand. "He keeps saying that if we learn to control our abilities, if we give the humans time to get used to the idea that mutants are here, that we're not going to go away…"

"That everything will be just fine?" Mort finished, one eyebrow raised. "Does anyone actually believe it would be that simple?"

"I think a couple people do. Or else they don't see any better options." Pyro sighed, slouching against the arm of the couch. "But I'm not sure Magneto's a better option."

"So, does this mean you want to stay here and fight vampires and demons with us? We don't care what your genes say, and you'll probably die young and in great pain…" Faith paused, considering her words. "Why the hell would anyone actually volunteer for this anyhow?"

"When did you find out that vampires were real?" Pyro's question was faint, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"I was nine," Faith murmured. "We were out for a walk – me, my mom, and her boyfriend. Everything was going, and I remember that I was worried about the guy asking mom to marry him, and then… These two guys attacked. Their faces looked weird, and I remember wondering if they were mutants, but…"

"Hey!" Pyro glared, and then the scowl melted. "Of course, having seen the vampires, I guess I can understand that. What happened?"

"They killed mom's boyfriend, and they nearly killed my mom. The first vamp had said something about saving me for desert." The memory made her shudder, especially since she could still remember the feeling of his eyes, slowly passing over her, the way that her mom's boyfriend had looked at her mom. "Mellie showed up, and got them with holy water. She saved us, and after that… We both wanted to know a little more about how to keep them away. I didn't find out until later that… Well, Mellie didn't tell us everything that night."

"Where's Mellie now?" Pyro asked.

Mort stood up, walking over to wrap his arms around her. "You're not alone, Faith. I promise."

"Mellie's dead, a vamp killed her." Faith closed her eyes, leaning into Mort. She didn't mention the fact that Kakistos had ordered Mellie to be tortured first, or that she'd seen part of it, that she'd found what had been left of Mellie afterwards. "It wasn't quick."

"So, the options for my future are to try to pretend to be human and hope that nobody learns otherwise or makes an accusation, become a target by trying to demand that mutants be treated as equals or better, become a sitting target by hoping that with enough time," Pyro made a rather doubtful face at that before continuing, "the humans will decide mutants are okay, or get killed fighting monsters that aren't supposed to exist."

"Apparently, nobody's explained to the monsters that they aren't supposed to exist," Mort commented dryly.

"How did Lorrie get involved in this mess?" Pyro asked.

"You guys are both mutants because you're born a little bit different from the normal humans," Faith began, with a small frown. "Thus ending my scientific knowledge of mutants in general, and moving on. I think mutants are probably a relatively new thing, but monsters like vampires aren't. So, a long, long time ago, a bunch of people who were sick and tired of their families getting munched on worked some sort of big, scary magic ritual, and prayed. In answer, the first Slayer was empowered."

"Slayer?" Pyro repeated, hinting for her to go on.

"There's a speech that goes along, but let me give you the cliff notes version. The world is old, and scary, filled with dangerous things that like to eat people. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight them – she is the Slayer. The Slayer gets to fight all the scary things, and to help out, she gets super strength and reflexes, some sharp instincts, and weird dreams to remind her that scary things are out there, and sometimes to hint at what scary things are here. The Slayer gets hurt a lot, so she has to heal faster. Eventually, the Slayer dies, and another one is chosen."

"You said 'girl'. How old are Slayers normally?" Pyro asked, looking worried. "And who chooses them?"

"Nobody chooses, it's fate, or destiny, or whoever's closest to the next oncoming disaster. There's hundreds of girls and young women out there at any point, training and learning in case, but nobody knows who's next. The records from the last three hundred years say that a Slayer is normally called between thirteen and sixteen," Faith sighed, and closed her eyes. "There's no retirement plan. From the records, it's not uncommon for there to be two or three new Slayers a year."

"Shit…" Pyro whispered.

Mort just held Faith close, rubbing his hand along her back.

"Lorrie's a potential Slayer," Faith continued. "I'm not a potential anymore. I was Chosen about a month before Mellie was killed."

End part 45.

For what felt like a long time, they sat in awkward silence, with Faith thinking unhappy thoughts about the tendency of Slayers to die early, and in great pain. Mort was still holding her, and Faith leaned into his embrace, feeling glad that she had someone.

"What kind of help do Slayers get against everything that's not supposed to exist but does?" Pyro asked, his voice quavering slightly.

"We get a Watcher, someone with lots of books to tell all about the nasty monsters and what nasty things they might do. They teach us some about fighting, and they keep track of the weapons that we might need." Faith paused, swallowing hard. "The old tradition goes, 'she alone can fight the vampires', and they do mean alone. Most Slayers are given some weapons and sent out to patrol, with instructions to report back later. Mellie thought that sounded stupid, and went with me, but… There was only so much she could do."

"What do you mean?" Pyro was looking pale, and his hand was playing over his lighter again.

"Mellie was great at identifying that monster, and a good shot with a crossbow, but she wasn't that strong. Granted, she was in good shape for a woman, but human strength against something that can put a dent in a car door - the old ones, from when they were actually made out of metal instead of fiberglass – is not even close to an even fight." Faith remembered one night when a vampire had gotten past them both, how he'd nearly choked Mellie because the woman hadn't been strong enough to pry his hands off her throat. "I had to do most of the fighting, and even then, I knew I was a lot luckier than most Slayers."

"You mean these people are sending out thirteen year old girls with pointy sticks against monsters?" His shout was a mix of disbelief and anger.

"Most are closer to sixteen, and it's more like a couple pointy sticks and a knife, but yeah. And then the Slayers die." Faith closed her eyes, not wanting to let herself cry. It didn't matter that it wasn't fair, pointing it out wouldn't change anything.

"I think the alone part is the stupidest thing that I've ever heard, even more than that 'if you smile nicely at the humans they'll know that we can just all get along' rot," Mort snarled, one hand gently gripping Faith's shoulder. "So I've been helping her ever since she saved me from a group of vampires."

"How can I help?" Pyro whispered.

"The fire thing would be great against vampires, they burn real easy," Faith commented, thinking out loud. "We can help you learn how to fight, and then you too can go out and get bruises."

"At least yours won't clash with the green of your complexion," Mort mock-grumbled.

Pyro's smile was rather shaky at the joke. "Right. So, do I get to learn a crossbow, and more importantly, do I get to learn why Tanya keeps one in the kitchen cupboard?"

"Oh, that's because we all agreed that there was no point in keeping a crossbow in the bathroom," Faith giggled. "While it might not be a bad idea to have a weapon, if something's in the bathroom with you, a crossbow's no good. It's for when you can get them from a distance, not when you can reach out and touch them."

"The bathroom?" Pyro blinked, frowning. "Why would… never mind. I don't think I want to know how it got there."

"Sensible," Mort agreed.

"Okay, I'm in. I'll probably hurt for it, but I'm in. Lorrie might need someone willing to stand with her, after all," Pyro said.

"Good. I have the feeling that we can use all the help we can get," Faith murmured. "The head vamp, she's decided that she wants more minions. Complication is that she's going after mutants. The one that we ran into couldn't have been turned more than five years ago, but he was a lot tougher than most young vamps. If she can get even a handful of tougher minions like that…"

Pyro's grin faltered, and he made a little noise. "ehehe… minion vampire mutants. Joy."

End part 46.


	22. parts 47 and 48

Mort set up some targets along the side of the barn, while Faith found Lorrie and a couple crossbows. Lorrie had been all too eager to help Pyro learn to use a crossbow, blushing as she scampered outside. Faith had trailed after, carrying several bundles of bolts, so they'd actually have something to shoot.

Pyro wanted to help them. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that he wanted to help Lorrie and that he didn't want to go back to the school of smile and look harmless for the normal people, but that was close enough for Faith. Considering the opposition, she was sure that they could use all the help they could get.

"I've got bolts so you can actually shoot," Faith called, smirking at the way Lorrie was showing Pyro exactly how to grip the crossbow.

"Good," Pyro mumbled, his cheeks pink as Lorrie snuggled against him, her hand overlapping his.

The basics of loading and holding it were soon explained, and Faith made sure to stand back as Lorrie, Pyro and Mort faced the targets. She knew that Lorrie and Mort were decent shots, but Pyro was a complete unknown, and she was sure that it would hurt to be shot. Probably worse than being stabbed, but not as much as falling backwards off a building onto a truck. Best not to find out at all. Looking at them and checking one last time to be sure all the points were aimed towards the barn, Faith called, "Fire!"

Lorrie's bolt hit the middle of the paper plate. Mort's caught the edge, not good enough to get the eye or the heart but enough to make the baddie hurt. As for Pyro, his bolt missed the plate by an inch, both down and to the left of the target.

"There's not as much recoil as a gun, try it again," Mort offered.

"I don't have much experience with guns either. Fire's always been enough for me," Pyro grumbled, awkwardly reloading the crossbow.

"It's always a good idea to be able to use a weapon," Lorrie stated. "If you know how, you don't have to use it, but if you can't use it, it's nothing more than a really expensive and not so effective club. Besides, if you can set the bolts on fire after you launch them, it won't matter where you hit a vamp, they'll burn up."

"And that's a good thing. The movies have the blood-drinking part right, and they're a damn predatory bunch. I'd rather keep my blood inside my veins, and I think that you'll agree to that statement regarding yours. The best way to ensure that is to eliminate the vampires before they get to you," Mort continued.

"If it makes you feel better, you can wait until they make with the lame threats," Faith offered. "Once they start calling you dinner and threatening to crack open your bones to suck out the marrow, that whole reluctance to kill thing goes right out the window."

"Crack open your bones… who talks like that anymore?" Pyro demanded, eyes wide and face pale.

"Well, the one I heard making that threat was pretty old. You have to remember that vamps don't get old, wrinkled and fragile like regular people, they just get stronger as time goes by. And the older ones tend to be meaner and smarter than the young and stupid vamps you're more likely to run into," Faith replied.

"That's because the stupid ones get killed off when they're young, not because people were smarter before. The idiots get killed, leaving only the criminal masterminds and the professional cowards," Mort added.

Glancing at Faith, he insisted, "I can pay attention to your vampire lessons."

"Good, because sometimes what you don't know can kill you," Faith leaned over and kissed him. "I want you to be around for a long time, and I want to spend that long time with you. As much as I can, at least."

"Can we get back to the target practice instead of the sappy stuff?" Lorrie called.

"Sure. You might want to help Pyro learn to reload faster, and he definitely needs to work on his aim," Faith decided. Perhaps tomorrow she'd draw a person-shape on the side of the barn for them to practice with. Something where she could mark the heart. "And if he can practice… next time we get a burn pile built up, he should practice lighting the bolts before they hit the target. It could be very useful against vampires."

"This is definitely not the way I expected life to turn out. Hunting vampires and demons… I thought those were just stories," Pyro lifted the crossbow again, releasing the bolt. It hit the edge of the plate where it was all scalloped and ruffly. "And now they're as real as mutants."

"Yeah, welcome to my world," Faith patted him on the shoulder. "Don't forget that you get to learn the hand-to-hand stuff too, just in case they get past your crossbow."

"So, what can you tell us about that Wesley guy who was at breakfast? He's definitely not local," Lorrie asked.

"No, he's English, and he's a Watcher. Sort of. Again. Wait, let me start over. When I got to Sunnydale in California, the Council sent me Wesley. He was supposed to take over and be my Watcher, since Mellie had been killed in Boston. Of course, Mellie was about ten years older and had quite a bit more field experience than Wes. All he had was theory, a bit of weapons instruction indoors, and a couple controlled exposures. By now, I'm sure that all of you know that the one thing you can be sure not to run into out patrolling is a controlled circumstance. When he faced the reality of being out there, he wasn't ready. And he had no idea how to deal with a Slayer who thought for herself instead of letting the Watcher do it all for her. It went badly… very badly. The short, short version is that I ignored him, he got fired, and both of us left town, not at the same time. And somehow, here he is. In the past nine months, he's picked up a lot about the real world, relaxed, and figured out how to think for himself instead of quoting the Council. He's here to read all the old Watcher books, some of which are German, and I know there's French and Latin. Maybe some Sumerian or other weird old languages that haven't had a city in centuries. That's part of what Watchers do, they read the old books full of demons and magic rituals and objects, and tell us what the mystic whats-it is and how to stop the big evil ritual," Faith explained. She just hoped that Wesley had really improved as much as she was claiming, for all their sakes.

"I'm sorry about your first Watcher," Lorrie offered.

"It wasn't your fault, Lorrie. The responsible party was a vamp named Kakistos, and he's dead now. Run through with a railroad tie, and the bones crushed, torched, and the ashes dumped over fresh cement," Faith couldn't manage a smile. Somehow, the slight good mood about the target shooting had been crushed.

"Okay, back to practice. I want to be prepared when the scary lady sends more minions after me… us," Lorrie said, turning to face the barn.

Nobody argued. After all, she had a very good point – the vampire would try again.

End part 47.

Faith couldn't make up her mind if time was crawling past or rushing. They'd been training, and she was starting to hope that Pyro could turn into a tolerable shot with the crossbow. Failing that, if he hit them at all, he could then light it on fire, if he had his lighter or something was burning. They'd been working on hand to hand combat, and making certain that there were weapons scattered through the house. Wesley kept searching through books, looking for what the Door might be used for, and anything that might help identify the vampire. Faith's description had been more helpful than the fact that the other vampires had called her 'the Lady', with an audible capital.

She'd sent an email to Dick's lawyer, saying that an acquaintance had mentioned that he was looking for her, and that Dick had said he was indeed his lawyer. There hadn't been a response yet, but she figured it wasn't a big rush. If they couldn't stop this vampire and her plans, Faith would be too dead to look into an inheritance anyhow.

Pyro was becoming a better shot with the crossbow, and he and Lorrie were definitely together. Not just the sappy grins when they looked at each other, but the noises from their room late at night made their involvement clear. Of course everyone had their own idea why they seemed to be good for each other. He'd ducked through the Door to grab some things from his old school, and left a note for his friends there.

Wesley still hadn't figured out what the evil vampire-lady wanted the Door for, but trial and error had determined that if you had a clear picture in your mind and tried to open the door at night, it would open to that somewhere. More efforts had determined that it would only work once a night, but distance didn't seem to limit the Door, and Wesley had determined that it didn't need to be night on the other side after a quick trip to London. Mort had tested and discovered that it only did the magic door to elsewhere trick from the inside, opening it from outside only led to the hallway. They had no way to tell if it would bypass a vampire's need for an invitation, but the idea was unsettling.

Faith sighed, and decided to go to the computer and see if she had anything interesting, either from Sunnydale or Dick's lawyer. Maybe it would help not to think about their problems. Later, she and Mort would do a patrol, and see if they could get rid of any other minions, or get some information of this vampire. Even if they couldn't, they'd at least feel like they were trying. She'd leave the books to Tanya and Wesley, who seemed to be getting along pretty well. Well enough that Faith was wondering if someday, this house might belong to Tanya Wyndham-Price.

Opening her email, she shook her head, deleting the garbage emails about cheap prescription drugs, porn of various flavors, penis enlarging drugs, and one claiming to have an inheritance worth millions that was stuck back in Nigeria, and if she'd only help, they'd split it with her. The daily news update was there, and another email from Willow, with the subject line 'Current Problems'. Somehow, Faith didn't get a happy feeling about that email. Opening it, she could only shake her head.

To BackFromtheDark5x5...

From RedRose99...

Subject: Current Problems

Faith,

…and I just wondered, what IS your last name? Do you even use one, or is it just Faith, like just Madonna or just Angel?

Sunnydale is being awful, which is probably all because of the stupid Hellmouth. You missed the freaky floating demons that stole everyone's voices – the news called it a sudden massive outbreak of viral laryngitis. Better than gang members on PCP or people falling on barbeque forks. Maybe.

Remember I said there was an effort to make an army of demon-cyborg soldiers? Turns out that it's a military project (it's going to go awry in a truly horrible fashion. Didn't any of them read Frankenstein?). You didn't say where you are, but considering this and that Slayers NEVER EVER get to have safe & boring lives, you might want to look into any strange military projects wherever you are. There's a group of soldiers hunting demons out here. Sounds good, right?

Except the demons either vanish entirely so that not even Willy has any idea (Buffy even beat him up twice and Giles offered money. Still no info.) or they show up acting like puppets – and we don't know who's pulling the strings. The soldiers hunt in groups from three to six, in camouflage and masks. We don't know if it's the same soldiers spotted at the docks as the ones spotted near the old High school.

Buffy thinks her boyfriend's cheating on her, not that you're probably too worried. I have to agree that Riley is hiding something. Granted, there could be a lot of thing's to hide, but… He's probably cheating. Like Oz did. Men are jerks.

One of the books had something about a Door of Spirits – no idea if that's anything like your funky magic door or not. It's supposed to allow ghosts or any other dead soul to 'move on to the Realm of the Dead'. The text suggested that this moving on might not need to be voluntary, and would work from either side. Nifty, but nothing to say an evil vamp would want one. Of course, if you can send someone away, can you call them back? And if so (which would be bad) then how?

Anyhow, Sunnydale sucks. I hope you're doing better wherever you are. Don't go evil again.

Willow

Faith blinked, slowly letting out the air in her lungs. She wasn't sure what had happened to get Buffy away from Angel, but this Riley – whoever that was – didn't sound like Angel. And while she didn't care too much if Buffy got cheated on… She did care. She just didn't know why. The whole idea of Oz cheating on Willow was strange though – Oz hadn't reacted once to her and her charms. If that wasn't being utterly stuck on Willow, nothing was. What had changed that? Not that it mattered much to her out here.

Soldiers grabbing demons though… that could matter. It could matter a lot if it was an official project, especially if it was something going on in more than one location. And demons under some sort of control… what would they be used for? Hunting criminals? Hunting other demons? Hunting mutants? Shuddering, Faith decided that if they survived this vampire and her plans, she'd have to figure out a way to check into the possibility of local military, both for being here at all and having scary projects.

And she'd have to let Wesley know about the Door Willow had found. Could something like that call up the dead? Would that be an army of ghosts, or zombies? Demonic hordes out for blood? Slime covered things with glowing eyes? None of those options sounded good. Standing up, Faith wondered why magic had to be so complicated.

She was looking forward to a nice, simple patrol.

End part 48.


	23. part 49

Lorrie and Wesley started working on hand to hand, covering the basics with Pyro. Wesley was also grinning as he talked about evaluating Lorrie to get an idea of where her training had left her and what needed improvement. Faith had snickered at the way he'd blushed and stammered about the idea that it might be a good idea for Tanya to consider studying a bit of hand to hand and weaponry as well, if only for the exercise.

"He's worse at it than Pyro," Mort whispered to Faith. "And probably twice as old."

"Twice might be stretching it," Faith snickered again. "But he is really bad at flirting. I notice he hasn't tried to evaluate my fighting."

"He seems to be nervous about you, sweetie. I guess he's still working on those missteps of yours," Mort hugged her as he spoke.

"He wouldn't be the only one," Faith leaned against Mort, fighting back another wave of regret and tangled emotions that she couldn't sort out. "I screwed up in a big way."

"If you're going to do something, do it right?" Mort shook his head. "Second chances all around, remember?"

"Yeah."

Pyro moved towards them, one hand waving, "Hey. Someone's here most of the day, right? One of you two, or Tanya… someone?"

"Yeah, seems to be," Faith agreed. "What about it?"

"I've been talking with Lorrie, and Tanya. Mort had a few good points too, about how playing nice and not showing off won't make humans okay with mutants, though he used bigger words," Pyro shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and looked at Faith. "I don't want to go back. I want to stay here, and try to help."

"You want to stay for Lorrie," Faith said, grinning at him. "I've seen the way you look at her."

"Yeah, well… I can help," Pyro was blushing. "Anyhow, I want my things sent here. There isn't much, but it's mine. All I've got left from before. Someone'll probably need to sign for it, or at least bring the stuff inside so it doesn't get rained on."

"You might want to talk to Tanya, but that doesn't sound like a problem," Faith shrugged. "She'll probably put you to work fixing the place up. And if Wes stays, he's pretty big on school if you're not going to die, so he'll talk about that."

"You mean a diploma," Pyro sighed. "Can I just home-school?"

"No clue," Faith tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "The cover was that I was home-schooling when Mellie came. I did learn, but that was more about identifying rituals and magical things, weapons, and fighting. She figured I didn't need any of the higher math, and I didn't get much in the literature and social studies. Not too much history either."

Pyro gaped at her, "You mean, you just… dropped out?"

"More of a job-oriented education. I don't need to know algebra or the exports of Peru, I need to know how to stop a ritual to summon a greater horror, how to use a crossbow, and where to hit different demons to kill them. Priorities and all that," Faith shrugged. "Most of the time, getting Called means a year or less for the whole 'rest of your life', so why waste it on exports of Peru and algebra?"

"It sounds not as bad that way, but still not good," Pyro shivered. "And Lorrie?"

"I haven't asked," Faith whispered. "But I don't think the guy who just died would have let her go to a normal school."

"If I've had the most normal childhood out of everyone here, then something's just not right," Pyro muttered. "Wait, what about Mort, Wes and Tanya?"

"I've always been green. Dad didn't care as long as I stayed out of the way, Mom called me a little freak. You can rule out normal for me," Mort sighed, and shook his head. "At least there were plenty of things to read in the library."

"Wes was raised to be a Watcher. He probably got the exports of Peru and algebra, and lots of old languages, demons, magic rituals, and prophecies of doom. I don't think Watchers count for normal anywhere but with other Watchers," Faith almost smirked. "Maybe Tanya had normal."

"If I'm going to risk serious pain and maybe death, at least I get to be around pretty girls and someone who makes great cookies," Pyro grinned. "I'll go check about packages and school."

Watching him leave, Faith had a sudden thought. "I wonder if this is how B ended up with her gang?"

"B? More about your past?" Mort reached out, touching her elbow.

"The other Slayer. I know it's only supposed to be one girl in all the world, but apparently those old magic guys didn't know about CPR and Destiny either doesn't care or thought it would be funny. She drowned, got CPR, felt better, and her life went on. And then there was another Slayer," Faith shivered, uncertain if the temperature had just dropped by ten degrees or if she was creeping herself out.

"You?"

"Some girl named Kendra. She got killed, and then it was me. I'm surprised that none of the Council tried to off me while I was in the hospital. Some of them are real bastards like that. If I die, they get a new Slayer, and she might be more traditional and behave like they expect." Faith shivered again, her mind playing out pictures of dark clad men sneaking into the hospital, of syringes full of funky colored drugs and poisons, of a pillow placed over her face as she laid helpless in a bed.

"How bad was it? Whatever put you in the hospital?" Mort stepped closer, his arm sliding around in a hug. "You mentioned being in a coma, but… what happened?"

"I got stabbed and fell backwards off a building. I don't know what I landed on," Faith whispered. "If I hadn't been a Slayer, I probably wouldn't have made it to the hospital at all."

"I've seen some medical shows. If things were that bad, how do we know you didn't flat-line while they were trying to get you put back together? If you did, could that call another Slayer? If CPR worked, would your heart stopping for a few moments Call someone else too?" Mort pulled her close, his hand touching her scar.

Faith blinked, considering his words. "I… have no idea."

End part 49.


	24. parts 50 and 51

Faith hadn't been able to answer Mort's question about her heart maybe stopping while she was in the hospital, and she hadn't liked the uncertainty or the question. Not that she expected most people to get a kick out of thinking about their maybe-death. Being Faith, she'd decided that tough thinking about thorny questions wasn't her strong point. On the other hand, it had been Wesley's job.

Wesley was in the upstairs library, with a stack of old books beside him, another open in front of him, and a notebook with a pencil at his elbow.

"Hey," Faith spoke from beside a shelf, wanting to make certain he knew she was there before launching the tricky questions.

"Faith? What brings you here? I'm well aware that the library isn't your favorite place," Wesley blinked at her, one hand remaining on the book to mark his place.

"Mort and I were talking earlier, and he mentioned something. A question and a good point. We both know that I got hurt pretty bad back in Sunny, and spent a while in the hospital," Faith began awkwardly, certain that there would be no graceful way to ask.

"Yes, your injuries were quite severe. I'm not even certain that every Slayer would have been able to survive such a nasty combination of injuries," Wesley nodded. "A valid, if unsettling observation. Where does the question come into play?"

"Medical shows. Do we know if I flat-lined at the hospital? Would it have made someone else a Slayer if I had, even if it was just for a few moments?" Faith dropped the question like a rock. There was no point in dancing around it, and the sooner she spat it out, the sooner he could get back to whatever he'd been reading, probably either about the Door or looking for the scary vampire woman.

"Wha… I…" For a few moments, Wesley resembled a fish. Then he seemed to pull himself together. "While I do not know if you did or did not flat line at the hospital, it would certainly have been possible, given what I know about your injuries. Anything severe enough to leave you in a coma might well have caused your heart to falter or stop. The Sunnydale Hospital wouldn't release your medical records to me, only to you, or a designated legal guardian – something about patient privacy. I don't know if your heart stopping for a few moments could have Called a new Slayer or not, very few Slayers have the chance for sufficiently skilled medical attention to let us find out such a thing. I'm almost positive that there's never before been a Slayer in a coma."

"So, would there be a new Slayer?" Faith's fingers twisted at a loose thread at the hem of her tank top, and brushed against the scar on her stomach. "Is there any way to find out if there's another one out there?"

"There are a few people among the Watchers who are still talking to me, I can see if they've heard anything about a new Slayer. Failing that, there are a couple rituals intended to track down a Slayer… the way it is supposed to work is to give an indication of which way and how far to a Slayer. If it would pick up another with you here, that should tell us something." Wesley frowned and tapped at the notebook. "The implications if stopping a Slayer's heart for a while Call another could be quite disturbing… not that drowning and CPR don't raise similar disturbing issues. Medically speaking, there are a number of ways that someone's heart could be stopped."

"How many times could one person dying Call another Slayer? B can't be the first Slayer ever to have someone work with her, she can't be the first Slayer to know someone who knew CPR. How the hell can we be sure there aren't already more Slayers out there?" Faith leaned against the book case, and shook her head. "Maybe there's a whole bunch of us, and we all get fed this line that we're the only ones standing between Earth and the Apocalypse. Kind of makes you fight harder if there's nobody else to call, you know?"

"That's a truly disturbing idea. I just wish I could blame it entirely on you. Something similar crossed my mind shortly after I first heard of Miss Summers' drowning and resuscitation. Considering some of the senior Watchers…" Wesley paused for a few moments before speaking again. "As I said, there are disturbing implications. I will have to make a few calls, and perhaps I can try one of those Slayer locating spells after we deal with this Mistress Vampire."

"Yeah, just thought you'd have a better chance of answers than me," Faith shrugged, trying to suggest that the idea of dying didn't make her skin crawl.

"Those aren't questions that Slayers are normally taught the right references to approach," Wesley murmured, his eyes taking on the unfocused and glazed cast of someone who was no longer paying attention to what was right here in front of them. "Perhaps Nathan… and maybe if we can get a few others to cast the spell and triangulate the results… Best if we can get a reference from somewhere in Europe as well…"

"I'll let you get to that," Faith turned towards the library door before she remembered the email from Willow. "Hey, Wes, one more thing. I sent an email to Red, back in Sunnydale, asking her if she could find anything about a Door to the Heavens, maybe why that vampire wants it so bad. She found something about a door to send the restless dead through. I wasn't sure if it could be used to bring them back. I'll print out the email so you can have what she said and maybe check back if you want more details. 'Course, if seems that there's weird shit going on there to keep them busy, so it could take a while for her to get back on that."

With those words, she left the library. She could let Wesley tackle the question of finding out if there were more Slayers than just her and B. If he couldn't get anywhere, it really wouldn't change anything for her, and if he could find an answer… It still wouldn't change what she had to deal with. The only way that it would change anything would be if there was another Slayer close to them, and that was damn unlikely.

"Best to just find Mort and maybe go on a patrol or something…" Faith headed down the stairs, letting one hand trail along the wall as she considered that they really needed to get the wiring here fixed so that people could actually see on the staircase.

She found Pyro on the computer, and managed to convince him to let her print out that email, with only a small mention of the fact that it had information that might help them stop the psycho vampire woman before she could kill them all. He said that he'd get the pages to Wesley in the library 'in just a few minutes.' Faith hoped that meant Wes'd actually get them tonight instead of tomorrow or next Tuesday.

With that out of the way, she went looking for Mort. After several rooms where he wasn't, she finally found him on the third floor, tugging wires away from one of the support beams in the wall, with several of the panels removed so that he could get to it. Beside him were a metal trash can, a spool of new wiring, and several tools that Faith couldn't name beyond the hammer and the wire-cutters. Light came from a camping lantern, set so that it caught a light socket on the ceiling, one that dangled a few inches from the ceiling by several wires, one of which looked rather frayed.

"You look like you're hoping to go kill some vampires to make the ugly thoughts go away," Mort gave her a half grin, and dropped the bit of wiring into the trash can.

"That obvious?" Faith didn't bother trying to deny what he'd said. Thinking about the chance that she'd died, even if only for a few moments, thinking about what some people might do with the idea that killing a Slayer for just a moment would activate another… ugly. Thinking about some evil vampire that looked like a Nick-at-Nite sitcom housewife getting a door to bring in all sorts of restless and probably hungry dead things… also ugly. Killing demons and vampires was a lot more productive than denial.

I talked to Wesley about what you said, about me maybe flat-lining at the hospital," Faith admitted. "It led to ugly thoughts about some of the more ruthless Watcher types. The ones who worry more about politics than fighting demons."

"How'd that go?" He jumped up, taking hold of the beam to tug out some metal staples, which he tossed towards the trash can. That was followed by the dangling socket. "I'll need to replace that tomorrow, and then we can see about the rest in this hall."

"He said it was a good, if disturbing question, and he'd have to talk to a couple people and check a few things. I think we can leave it to him, because it won't change things here," Faith rolled one shoulder as she remembered the sensation of falling off the building, a knife in her gut and seeing B glaring at her, Faith's blood sprayed over her hand and shirt. "Can we go kill things now?"

"Yes," Mort agreed.

Of course, they had to clean the work area up first, so that nobody would trip over the tools, the new wiring, or the trash can, and they had to take the lantern back downstairs. They needed to go to the garage anyhow for Mort's motorcycle. Faith collected a short sword and a dozen stakes, and pulled on a leather jacket. She could tell from the hang of Mort's jacket that he'd picked up some weapons as well, but it was hard to identify what he had… a knife? More stakes? Ah well, it didn't matter that much.

They would go out for a patrol and kill things… make the area safer for humans and all that good stuff. It was the second best form of stress-relief that Faith knew.

End part 50.

Lacking any suspicious deaths reported in the local paper, they headed towards the old building that looked to have been a factory, though Tanya wasn't quite sure when it had been used or what it might have produced. Mort thought it looked like the sort of areas that mutants who couldn't blend often hid. Faith thought it looked like dozens of demon and vampire lairs that she'd seen in the past. Considering that there was a vampire in the area looking for mutants… It wasn't a reassuring idea.

They considered the old building, with the two crumbling smokestacks that looked big enough to drop a car down, and the rows of darkened windows… and some farther from the road that showed light. Behind the empty building, a line of trees rose almost as tall as the building, and they could hear the soft sounds of water flowing.

"I think the river is over here, maybe behind the factory?" Mort asked.

"Could be," Faith mused. "We'll need to keep that in mind, nothing quite as embarrassing as slipping and drowning in a river because we got careless and stupid."

"Do we need to worry about water demons?" He asked.

Faith considered that as they crept towards the building. "If I'm remembering the books right, the sort of thing that live in rivers in this part of the world tend to be mostly harmless to adults. A bit farther north and there's some nasty water sprites that tend to try to make people drown themselves, a bit farther south and there's some alligator demons. There's a couple ocean demons, but… river, not ocean. It should be clear of nasty demons."

The door was unlocked, and opened without the slightest resistance or noise. Faith didn't like the implications of that any more than she liked seeing the light shining through in the far corner of the windows. "Abandoned and unused my ass."

Mort reached into his pocket and there was a cracking noise, accompanied by a hint of greenish light. He shook his hand and the light spread, revealing it to be one of those little lightsticks that people took camping, trick or treating, or to some of the wilder parties that Mellie had tried to keep her from knowing about. Giving her a small grin, he quipped, "There's no need to stumble around in complete darkness."

They moved slowly, not wanting to trip over whatever might be on the floor. Dark shapes loomed over them, and Faith hoped that those shapes were abandoned machinery and structural supports. She didn't feel anything ready to attack in the room, but that wasn't enough to make her relax. Something had made a light in here, and she didn't know what it was or what it wanted.

As they moved towards where they thought the light was coming from, Faith could hear a metallic, rattling noise. She suspected chains, which left her wondering who or what was being chained up. Was it a prisoner? A semi-wild pet? An engine that someone was working on modifying? They couldn't find a normal lamp and had to hang up a lantern?

There was a door, with a sliver of light shining through the cracks beneath and beside the door, with a rectangular name tag dangling from one side. Most likely this had once been an office of someone half way important to the building.

After glancing at Faith, Mort reached out and turned the handle. Faith was mildly surprised when it swung open easily.

The pair of young men chained to the wall weren't much of a surprise at all. Neither was the pair of bodies on the floor, both young women, about the same ages as the guys. Both of the bodies were blond, their clothing slightly torn, and bloodstains at their throats. She could feel them both, and wondered just when they would rise.

"A pair of couples out for some quality time and things went to hell?" Mort glanced from the guys to the bodies, one eyebrow rising.

"You have to get out of here before he comes back!" The closer guy, wearing a red shirt under a denim jacket, insisted. A bruise prevented one eye from opening all the way, but he looked afraid and resigned.

"Bastard had fangs…" the farther guy muttered, his dirty blond hair drooping over his eyes. He wore a blue and yellow letter jacket. "He killed Jenna and Pam."

"Vampires have a habit of doing that," Faith agreed. "How about we get you guys out of here while you're still alive?"

"D'ya happen to have a key for these? It isn't that we wouldn't like to go before the girls wake up and have us for dinner, but we are kinda tied up…"

Faith walked towards the guy in the red shirt, looking at the chains. They were old, and rusting, and had been looped around his wrists, lacking a proper set of manacles to hold him with. "No manacles… I'd say this is definitely a third rate holding facility. You better be up to date on your tetanus shots."

The guys exchanged wide eyed looks, and both blurted words at the same time, their voices overlapping, "Third rate? Just get us out of here!" and "Bigger problems than tetanus."

"Uh huh, that's why we're going to go away," Faith took hold of the chain keeping the guy in the red shirt, and yanked. The angle wasn't very good, and if the chains had been new, or if they'd been bigger it probably wouldn't have worked. As it was, they were only standard chains and more rust than steel, so the link shattered in a spray of rusty slivers. One wrist had about six inches of chain dangling from it, the other having closer to five and a half feet of rusty chain. "You might want to wrap that around your arm so it won't trip you on the way out."

Mort had taken a slightly different route, hopping up and yanking the hook that the other chain fastened to out of the wall. "It's not ideal, but you can travel now. We can figure out a better solution when we aren't in a vampire lair waiting for a couple brand new vampires to wake up with the munchies."

The guy in the letter jacket muttered something under his breath and reached into his pocket, the gesture causing the chains to rattle, as well as producing a lighter jingle, one that sounded an awful lot like car keys. "Whoa, all that ranting and the biting… the bastard left the car keys in my coat pocket!"

"You have a car?" Mort asked.

"In the back, between the building and the river. We… thought it would be a good place to take the girls, and didn't want anyone seeing us from the road," Red shirt admitted.

Faith glanced upwards, wondering yet again if horny guys were worth saving or if it would be better to just let them get eaten. All of this because they wanted to make out with their girlfriends… "Right, let's get you guys to your car now, and then you get out of here. Get into a house, and don't invite anyone inside. No matter who it is. Vamps need the verbal invite before they can come inside, and it's better to be a little careful rather than dead."

The guys weren't too steady on their feet, and they both stumbled and staggered as Faith and Mort helped them out of the former office. Faith glanced at Mort, figuring that once they had these bozos in their car, they'd have to come back in and preemptively stake the girls before they could rise. It was a simple plan, a good plan.

It wouldn't last.

End part 51.


	25. parts 52 and 53

They made their way back through the mess of rusting machinery that filled the building. As they walked between the large shapes, Faith muttered, "What did this place do anyhow?"

"My Dad said it used to make motorcycles," the guy in the letter jacket replied. "Grandpa worked here his whole life, and Dad did for about twelve years. It's been closed 'bout fifteen years now… I never guessed it was because of a vampire."

"Motorcycles? Huh," Faith glanced around. She had no idea how such big machines would be used to make motorcycles, but then again, the whole industrialized manufacturing was mostly a mystery to her. Then again, being taken over as a vampire lair, even if only for a few vampires, probably didn't give a good idea of how the place was used when it was active and productive.

Heading across the weed strewn asphalt, Faith frowned at the two shapes in the darkness. "Is that a couple Volkswagens? I thought you had a car, not a pair of cars."

"We did only have one car…"

"Oh hell, it's that turtle…" Faith could only think of one explanation for a second car sized shape in the darkness. "Maybe it's asleep?"

"Try to keep those chains from rattling too much," Mort warned. "If that isn't a car, we think it might be a damn big snapping turtle."

"Snappers get big, but not that big," the other guy protested.

Faith didn't like moving closer to the lurking bulk that had to be the giant turtle. She'd gotten a close enough look at it the first time, and was quite comfortable staying away from it. On the other hand, the car would be the best way to get those guys out of here before there were….

She could feel a vampire moving towards the car. Not from the factory, but it felt like it was coming in from the road. "Quick and quiet, there's another vamp in the area, one that's awake. Once you guys get in the car, get it going and get gone."

"What about you?" asked the guy in the red shirt.

"We can handle one vamp," Faith insisted.

They staggered towards the car, the guy in the letter jacket slinging the length of chain over his shoulders, the loops rattling near his waist as he moved. He'd fished the keys out of his pockets, and there was no doubt that he wanted to take Faith's advice – get in and get gone.

"No!" the snarl had to belong to the vampire that had killed and turned the girls. The one who'd held the guys prisoner.

The guys made it to their car, and Faith turned to look at the approaching vampire. Nothing about him stuck out as unusual, he had the normal vampire ridges and yellow eyes, and the jagged fangs. The overalls, stained with grease and blood, went along with the old factory lair.

From behind here, where the guys were trying to get into their car and get out of here, she could hear swearing, and then the car made a horrendous noise. Tires squealed and the car began to move away from the other shape.

The vampire lunged, not so much towards Faith and Mort as out of the path of the car, which looked almost as rusted as those chains.

Faith had pulled a pair of stakes, and took a swipe at him, not expecting to give him a fatal strike but hoping to hit his gut and make it hurt. He twisted, dodging the stakes, and kicked out, one foot connecting to her wrist, sending that stake flying. Faith pulled back, shaking her hand and hoping that the feeling would come back before it was too late.

Mort jumped, landing with his feet on the vampire's shoulders and sending him crashing to the ground. He then jumped back up, sending the vampire's shoulders even lower, and smacking the vampire's chin against the asphalt. Instead of jumping towards Faith, he jumped backwards, his eyes widening as something that couldn't quite decide which bit of profanity it wanted to be emerged from his lips.

Faith grabbed the vampire and flung him behind her, towards the giant turtle. She twisted around, worried about what the turtle might be doing.

The vampire landed in a heap near the large shape. Once again, Faith was confronted with evidence that while turtles might be slow on their feet, they could bite very fast. The turtle's head reached out, and the vampire screamed, attempting to scrabble away. Desperation wasn't enough, and the vampire's arm was caught in the giant turtle's jaws, separating with no sign of effort at all.

The turtle seemed to like the taste.

"That's… that's a horrible way to go," Faith whispered. "I mean, I'm not a fan of the vamps, but… eaten in several bites by a giant snapping turtle?"

"The jocks car made it onto the road and away, we don't need to worry about them anymore. The girls weren't risen yet, would a stake kill them now?" Mort asked.

"It should, but there's the giant hungry turtle between us and the door. If we could get in, staking the bodies should do it. There's always cutting off the heads to make sure, but again, there's the giant turtle," Faith replied.

"I can get past the turtle, I've got the light, and it isn't that hard to stake a couple bodies," Mort murmured.

Faith nodded, and then gave him a hug, the wrist that the vampire kicked now starting to ache and the hand still numb. "Be careful."

Mort made his way into the building without the turtle moving towards him, and Faith hoped that it meant the turtle hadn't noticed that he was there. She'd spent most of her life without a decent guy, now that she had one, she didn't want to see him get eaten by an overgrown turtle! Instead, she edged towards the bike, wanting everything ready to get themselves out of here when Mort came back.

It felt like a lot more than ten minutes before he slipped back out the door, edging away from the turtle before a few of those amazing leaps brought him to her side. "You have the bike ready, good…"

Leaning in to give him a quick kiss, Faith whispered, "Everything go okay in there?"

"Just dandy with the first one, the second woke up before I could stake her, and she tried to get me," He shook his head, and Faith noticed a bruise forming on the underside of his jaw and another on his wrist. "I got her when she went for my throat. She still managed to head-butt my jaw before she dusted."

"Good, now let's get out of here," she insisted.

She didn't like abandoned factories. Especially the ones that weren't as abandoned as they were supposed to be. They were always trouble.

End part 52.

As they were nearing an older cemetery, Faith tapped Mort's shoulder, half yelling "I feel a vampire over there!"

Mort didn't try to talk, but he slowed the bike and turned into the cemetery. The headstones that they passed looked older, worn shapes of pale stone rising from the ground in ovals and slightly rounding rectangles, with the occasional cross. Here and there were larger headstones with figures of angels gazing sadly downwards. Towards the back were several larger mausoleums, where generations of the then-wealthy families could be interred together, separated from the have-nots in death as they had been apart in life.

There was a figure leaning against one of the taller rectangles, a lean shape with a hat. From the angle, it looked as if he was watching one of the mausoleums.

Mort stopped the bike, muttering, "Does that look like the vampire who said the others couldn't read a map?"

Faith considered the shape carefully, feeling the presence. "Definitely a vamp. Could be the same one… and there's more in the mausoleum."

"Want to bet that they couldn't read a map either?" Mort had a thin smile as he asked the question.

"They feel like minions, that's a given. Most of them are only a little brighter than dirt," Faith snorted. "Still, we should probably try to kill them."

"How about him?" Mort asked as they moved closer.

Faith considered what she knew about vampires, and the one encounter with the smarter, hat-wearing vampire. "He is a vamp, so we probably should if we can, but go for the minions first. If it is the hat-vamp, he's hoping for bad things to happen to the scary woman, which is great, but… that doesn't make him our friend."

"Enemy of my enemy and all that?" Mort clarified.

"Yep."

"Which is all off it he attacks us," Mort muttered.

Faith shrugged, after all, that was just basic sense. She was willing to leave the hat-vamp out of the fight for now, there would be plenty with the minions, especially if any more of them were mutant vampires.

The vampire in the hat stepped back as they approached, clearly abdicating any responsibility that he may have had for the minions in the mausoleum. He leaned against a different tombstone farther away, arms folded over his chest, the whole body language suggesting that he was here to watch the show. To be honest, Faith found that sort of behavior a bit creepy, even if it did make things a little easier.

"Looks like he's willing to step out of things for now…" Mort whispered.

Faith only nodded as they approached the mausoleum. She did notice where the moonlight caught the family name, and she wondered just why the vampires were doing something very noisy inside the Schwannstein family resting place. One door had been left open, suggesting that either the minions needed a little light, or they didn't want to bother with actually closing it behind them.

Inside the mausoleum, four minions were ransacking the coffins. One looked particularly tall and spindly, and he was snarling at a dark wooden coffin on a top shelf of the three levels, with a dulled metal name plaque. The other top slots had been left open, probably due to the sheer inconvenience that had to be involved in placing a coffin up so high, especially one weighted down with a dead body. Another didn't look more than fourteen, with piercings and a mohawk with lighter tips. Oddly enough, their clothing, even the one with the Mohawk, all had that the almost pressed tidy and presentable look of fifties televisions.

"Shades of Happy Days," Mort blinked.

"Bet they work for that woman… do we call her June Cleaver?" Faith shook her head, raising a stake. Most of the feeling was back in her hand, so she should be alright as long as none of these vamps hit the exact same place… or had any too-useful mutant powers.

"Maybe June with a cleaver," Mort countered.

"Hey!" one of the vampires shouted, spinning to face the newly arrived pair. "You shouldn't be in here! She said you would be killed!"

Faith wanted to take advantage of the minion's outraged shock and lunged forward with the stake. It slid neatly between his ribs, and he crumbled into dust, still gaping at them. She doubted that the others would go as easily.

Sometimes Faith hated being right.

There were flying fists, several kicks, though the cramped space of the mausoleum made those rather difficult. Cramped space made movement difficult, and missing your target often meant hitting the stone wall, causing an assortment of words that would have had Dick tut-tutting and Mellie insisting on a bit more effort and creativity, though more than a few of the words came from the vampires. Mort kept kicking the vampires into the walls, but it didn't keep them down very long.

Faith managed to stab the spindly one, but it didn't take, and he just laughed.

Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue, Faith tried stabbing the other side, remembering some old medical show mentioning some unpronounceable condition where the internal organs were reversed, like a mirror. Stabbing the left side worked much better, and he crumbled into dust, his laugh only starting to falter.

Things were slightly easier with only two minions, and they managed to stake them in short order, though Faith was left rubbing her elbow, and with a painful bump on the back of her head. She'd also done something to make her knee ache… Thinking back there had been that spin that left her knee finding a coffin and the mohawk'd vampire hitting the wall.

"The place is a wreck. What could they have been looking for?" Mort was rubbing at his shoulder as they stared at the now dusty but quiet mausoleum.

"No clue, but they obviously didn't find it. Might as well go home."

Neither of them could see the vampire in the hat when they emerged from the mausoleum.

"I'm hurt, you're hurt, and he's gone. Let's go home," Mort didn't quite beg.

"You talked me into it. Home, a hot shower, and a soft bed," Faith agreed.

End part 53.


	26. parts 54 and 55

All too soon, morning tormented Faith and Mort out of their comfortable bed. Both the bright sunshine and their empty bellies made strong cases that it was time to be up, so they reluctantly gave up on more sleep. After a warm shower together, they put on clothing, noting that it was time to do laundry again.

"Maybe we need more clothes," Mort sighed, pulling out his last clean shirt.

Faith sighed, looking at her own heap of dirty laundry, and made a small shrug, "We were travelling pretty light."

Their stomachs gurgled, and they gave up thoughts of laundry in favor of seeking breakfast.

Tanya and Wesley were there, and Faith decided very firmly not to think about the fact that the shirt Tanya was wearing looked an awful lot like one that she'd seen Wesley wearing… no, no more of those thoughts, there were pancakes.

"Pyro mentioned that the two of you were planning on a patrol last night," Wesley began. "Did you see anything unusual, or anything that might give us more information in thwarting that Master... Mistress Vampire?"

Mort gave a small grin and whispered, "He actually said thwarting. I didn't realize that anybody actually talked like that over breakfast. Big speeches in front of an audience… yeah. But not over pancakes."

Faith grinned at him, "That's a Watcher for you. Unusual… there's a probably mutant snapping turtle, or else a demon that looks an awful lot like a snapping turtle. The main difference being that it's the size of a Volkwagen. And a bunch of the vampire version of June Cleaver's minions were bustin' up a mausoleum last night."

"A mausoleum? Which one, and what were they looking for?" Wesley leaned forward.

"We don't know what they wanted, but they didn't find it," Mort commented, stabbing several pancakes with a fork and dropping them onto his plate. "And they don't talk much once they're dust."

"It was over near the orchard, and the name on the mausoleum was Schwannstein," Faith added. She decided to leave out any mention of the vampire with the hat.

"Perhaps we could go over later in the day and see if we can find anything?" Wesley offered.

"Someone needs to stay here, Pyro's things should be arriving today or tomorrow and someone has to sign for them," Tanya cautioned.

"We can manage to have someone stay, maybe Pyro would be a good choice, they are his things. It might also be good to see what we can find on the family, where they lived, what they owned… if they had any particular reputations," Wesley agreed.

"D'ya think that the vampire lady could be a member of the family?" Faith asked, stabbing a few more pancakes onto her plate. "She had to have come from somewhere."

"When Wes and I look up the family, we'll have to see if we can find some pictures. Maybe if there's a family resemblance, you two can spot it… if she's related. Though we can't ignore the possibility that whatever caused the minions to be there may have nothing to do with who she is… was. Can we even be certain that they were her minions?" Tanya ended with a puzzled note, and sighed before sipping at her morning coffee.

"Yes." Mort paused, and then added, "We saw the vampire with the hat again, and discovered that giant snapping turtles like the taste of vampire."

Everyone shuddered at the images that conjured, though Wesley and Tanya hadn't yet experienced the sight of a snapping turtle the size of a car eating something that was still trying to escape.

Faith explained, "The minions in the mausoleum said that She'd promised we'd be dead. No reason for them to be listening like that unless they were her minions."

"Sound reasoning," Wesley admitted.

"Do you think Pyro would rather stay here and sign for his things if they arrive, or try to help with some of the investigations?" Tanya offered.

"What investigations?" Pyro's voice came from the doorway, slightly groggy as he stumbled towards the table. "I smell pancakes…"

"You have options three," Mort began, the tilt of his head and the slight faked accent suggesting that he was imitating someone. "Choice one – a fun filled trip trying to find information on a bunch of dead people whose mausoleum was being ransacked by vampires last night in hopes of figuring out what the hell they wanted. Choice two – go to the ransacked mausoleum looking for clues. Choice three – stay here to sign for your things if they arrive."

Faith had no idea who or what Mort might have been quoting. "The upside to staying here is no vamps, and the comforts of home. The upside of looking for the information, most places with the info have windows and sunlight. The upside of the mausoleum is that it's less microfiche and bad handwriting. Downsides… sometimes mausoleums have vamps in the daytime, research in libraries can be boring, and waiting for deliveries can be boring."

"What's wrong with hand written books and microfiche?" Wesley grumbled.

"I'll wait here for my stuff, and maybe call and let my friends know that I'm okay, if that won't rack up too much of a long-distance bill," Pyro glanced at Tanya.

"Sounds good to me," Tanya agreed. "We'll have to see if Lorrie wants to go look for information on the Schwannsteins or search the mausoleum, or if she'd rather stay here. If you're here alone, I'd rather you didn't do anything on the roof."

"I can deal with that. Maybe a little more target practice with the crossbow," Pyro commented.

"I guess Mort and I will head back to the cemetery after we finish breakfast. You and Wes will probably head towards the library as soon as it's open," Faith looked towards Tanya. "Should be quite the fun morning."

"A morning full of research," Wesley murmured with a smile.

Faith shook her head, not quite understanding how Wesley seemed to think a day with old books, newspapers, and microfiche was actually fun. Yikes. Give her something active any day. Then again, maybe that was just one more difference between Slayers and Watchers.

End part 54.

"This is different than what we did whole we were travelling, isn't it?" Mort had his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, and his shoulders were slumped as he meandered towards his motorcycle. "I don't remember doing more than a quick glance to check for nasties yea or nay before we left the cemeteries."

"None of the vamps or demons we ran into while traveling had any big mystic plans. Just hunt, kill, and hide. Repeat when hungry. Big plans make things more complicated. They tend to need certain things, and sometimes rituals at a particular time. Some of the magic types, when they get a cool item, they try to take it with them, and it gets buried with them," Faith shook her head, following Mort.

"Kind of like getting buried with your glasses, false teeth, and wedding rings?" he glanced back, one eyebrow lifting.

"Yeah. 'Cept Granma's false teeth can' summon demons from beyond, curse your enemies, or help with some magic ritual. And for all we know, they could have been looking in the wrong one to begin with," Faith shrugged.

"So we just go look for anything weird?"

Reaching over to give him a quick hug and take the opportunity to squeeze his backside, Faith nodded, "Pretty much."

Just as he was preparing to start the motorcycle, Mort asked, "So, what do you think we'll find?"

"I expect a trashed mausoleum, and us maybe managing to make a list of who was supposed to be in there. If there was anything obvious to find, they would have found it, and we'd have seen it when we dusted them," Faith answered.

"I guess that makes sense," Mort agreed. "At least they were all old enough to be dry bodies instead of rotten squishy ones."

All Faith could do was shudder. Squishy, decomposing bodies always made things worse and smellier than they were before.

There wasn't much to say on the trip back out to the cemetery, and it wouldn't have been easy to try talking while going anywhere on a motorcycle anyhow. Faith just let her mind wander, enjoying the sunshine, seeing the blurred colors of flowers and green growing things and the floating wisps of clouds. The drive was much prettier by daylight. She could even hear birds singing somewhere.

Even the cemetery looked prettier by daylight. The sunlight showed that the scattered flowers were sunlight yellows, fiery oranges, blues and purples, with a generous scattering of pinks and reds that looked nothing at all like blood. The tombstones were even prettier, all clean and sparkling in the sunlight instead of pale shapes looming among the shadows. The green of the leaves was visible, turning them into thinly covered trees instead of skeletal reaching shapes that loomed over everything.

"It was to the back and right, wasn't it?" Mort offered.

Faith just nodded, her arms wrapped around him as they moved towards the back of the cemetery. There was no need to leave the bike towards the front and walk, they weren't trying to sneak up on any vampires this morning. If there were vampires, they couldn't have left anyhow, not with all the bright sunshine.

They had no trouble spotting the Schwannstein mausoleum. It was a big structure of white marble, gleaming in the sunshine, both doors closed.

"Did you close the doors behind you?" Mort asked.

Faith shook her head, trying to sense if there was anything that might be lurking inside. Any vampire, any demon… nothing. "No."

A quick glance around and then Faith opened one door, expecting to see the sunlight highlighting the dust covered mess from last night. Coffins on the floor, bodies exposed to the air, and vampire dust and a shovel on the floor.

That wasn't what they saw.

The shovel was gone. Each casket was closed and tucked back into place on the appropriate shelf, the sides an even distance from the edge, the spacing between the head and the feet and the walls balanced. There was no vampire dust on the floor. Faith didn't even see any cobwebs in the corners.

"Okay… someone came in after we left and cleaned up? This is…" Faith blinked at the interior. "I've stayed in hotels that didn't look this clean."

That's got to be something unusual. I don't know if it's a clue, but it has to be weird," Mort rubbed at his chin, and glanced around. "Shall we start writing down names?"

In ten minutes they were leaving the cemetery, with a list of fourteen dead Schwannsteins, along with their birth and death dates. They'd also noticed that here was an empty space marked with a plaque for Erwin Schwannstein, who was born on April 18th of 1704 and died on November 5th of 1730, with no sign of any casket. Come to think of it, that one had been empty last night.

"I have to wonder if this will help with the research or just make a bigger confusing mess," Faith sighed.

End part 55.


	27. part 56

They took a scenic route back to the farmhouse. Both of them were glad not to see the giant turtle, though there was a place near the river where it looked like the turtle was regularly going into and out of the river. The underbrush had been crushed and removed, and while some of the smaller twigs had been crushed into the muddy soil, the majority was simply gone, with ends sheared off in a slightly curving shape that made both Faith and Mort flinch.

"The turtle?" Mort gestured towards a branch as thick as his wrist, the end vanishing with a curved edge.

"Probably. They do eat just about any sort of thing, though the normal ones can't eat trees, sheep or vampires," Faith agreed.

Their trip back to the farmhouse became less meandering after finding the turtle's river access.

They arrived to see a rather large delivery truck in the driveway, with a brown clad person at the door talking to Pyro. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was most likely the things that he'd had sent from his old school, though they couldn't be certain if he'd had his chance to call and talk to his friends.

Mort parked the bike, and Faith sauntered closer to the door before calling out, "Need some help moving the boxes?"

"Be welcome," the driver commented. "He's got about six big boxes there."

Faith didn't think the box that she'd picked up was that heavy, and gave Pyro an amused glance as he grunted and staggered with the one he'd lifted.

"What did they send, everything?" Mort staggered with his own box before he adjusted his grip. "Balance is key when you're packing, a heavy box is even worse if it isn't balanced."

"Probably. And I don't know who packed it, I didn't get a chance to call yet," Pyro muttered.

"Shall I just take this on up to your room," Faith asked, freeing one hand to gesture towards the stairs.

"Yeah, you can just carry the heavy boxes right on up. I'll call my pals and rag on 'em for a bad packing job," Pyro replied. "She could at least try to look like they're heavy."

It wasn't long before all the boxes had been carried up to Pyro's room, though Faith didn't open any of them to see what was inside. She did have to admit that some of them didn't balance very well, and that imbalance did make them more awkward to carry.

With those moved, Faith decided to take the stacks of new shingles up to the roof. Mort might need to explain the right way to attach them to the roof, but there wasn't anything complicated in getting them up there. Before too long, Mort made his own way up to the roof, and they set to work with the shingles. It was sticky, messy work, and they both were quite ready to stop, grab a quick shower and change, and ask about lunch when they saw a vehicle coming down the road – likely Wesley, Tanya, and Lorrie back from the library.

"Do you think they found anything useful, or are they just the perfect excuse to get down from here?" Mort wiped at the sweat on his face, leaving a smear of dust clinging to his forehead.

"We have to get off the roof to find out, so either's good," Faith looked over the roof, feeling rather pleased. This section was finished, and that was pretty good for a day's work.

They didn't even bother fooling around in the shower or while getting dressed before they headed down to talk to Wesley and Tanya about the library trip.

Faith tried to look casual as she sauntered into the kitchen, her hair still damp from the quick shower. "Hey, I see that you've escaped the library. Did you find anything helpful?"

"There were dust bunnies that were almost as big as real bunnies," Lorrie gave an exaggerated shudder as she pulled some plates out of the cupboard. "Next time, I'll stay here and wait for deliveries."

"I'm not sure. We found stuff, but helpful remains to be seen," Tanya tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Most of what we found was history of this house, and some about the Schwannstein family. Apparently, the first lady of the house was Greta Schwannstein, who married Jacob Thackery. It's remained in the family since, with some renovations at various points. These renovations began with Jacob Thackery in his later years," Wesley looked at Faith and Mort before asking, "Did you find anything unusual at the mausoleum?"

"Very unusual. Sometime between when we killed the minions and this morning, someone slipped into the mausoleum and cleaned. All the bodies in the caskets, the caskets all lined up in the right alcoves, no dust, no cobwebs, and no lingering pry bars or wooden stakes. I don't know if it helps the investigation, but it was definitely weird. We made a list of names, with birth and death dates," Mort pointed at the paper held on the table by the sadly empty cookie jar.

"Wait, someone broke into the mausoleum and cleaned? Are you serious?" Lorrie's voice rose with each word, until she was nearly squeaking. Then, she paused and added "Can they do that here?"

"I'd rather they didn't, who knows what else might happen?" Tanya insisted.

"The oddest thing about Greta Schwannstein… Greta Thackery, I suppose, is that her final will included a letter addressed to her brother Erwin. The problem with that is that Erwin died shortly after her wedding to Jacob Thackery." Wesley shook his head and moved over to the stove where he poured a small amount of hot water into a tea pot, swished it around and dumped it into the sink. Then he dropped a little metal thin into the tea pot and filled it up with hot water, bringing it back to the table.

Faith made a small face, "Erwin? I guess there's a reason that some names aren't used so much anymore."

"There was an empty space in the mausoleum," Mort was frowning, and tugged the list out from beneath the cookie jar. "Yes, thought so… Erwin Schwannstein, born on April 18th of 1704 and died on November 5th of 1730. He was the empty space – no body, no casket."

Faith looked at Wesley, "Do those dates work for supposed to be dead brother Erwin?"

Wesley nodded, and very softly added, "I think we need to look into the history of the Schwannsteins a little more. Especially Erwin and Greta."

end part 56.


	28. parts 57 and 58

After a quick lunch, it was time for more research. Wesley headed back to the library to try to research the Schwannstein family a bit more, and possibly the Thackerys while he was there. Pyro called his friends, and could be heard teasing someone named Bobby about a girl named Marie, who apparently had a big brother or maybe uncle named Logan who Pyro said 'would not approve the moves' and warned Bobby to 'beware of sharp claws, man. No, I will not call you ice man. And if he catches you flirting, I may have to call you my late best friend.'

Faith trudged up to the library to flip through old books that smelled like stiff leather and dust. Maybe there would be something about the Door, or the crazy vampire woman. She'd even settle for things about the giant turtle. Looking around the library, Faith sighed, and moved towards the area that held journals. Maybe Tanya's uncle Eli Miller's stuff would be easier to read… and probably in modern English, and it would have the best chance to talk about the giant turtle. Unless there were journals from Lorrie's former Watcher, that could mention the turtle too…

"Do you think we could talk them into agreeing that more target practice is a better way to spend our time than searching old books for some clue that might or might not be there?" Lorrie asked.

"Unless Wesley's changed a lot, not today. Maybe tomorrow, if nobody finds anything and we fidget and ask annoying questions," Faith paused, considering the Potential. "You happen to know if the guy who taught you before had anything wrote in his books about the giant turtle?"

"It's worth looking. I know back before, when I was in elementary, some of the kids had stories. I thought they were the hooked hitchhiker killer type, only with a giant turtle eating people who went swimming alone in the river. My mom told me that turtles didn't get that big, and it was probably just the currents getting people. She also said to stop watching Hammer horror films, there was no such thing as vampires, magic wasn't real, and that being a Girl Scout would help me make friends." With those words, Lorrie moved towards the new additions, the books taken from the apartment where she'd lived before.

Opening another of the Eli Miller books, Faith asked, "Lorrie? The Girl Scout thing… did it help?"

"Not really. But the cookies were awesome."

Faith looked up when the floorboards creaked, and she gave a little wave at Pyro. "Hey Lorrie, you have company."

Pyro sauntered over, and looked at the table, "Newer books, written in English? Much better."

"How'd your call back to your friends go?" Lorrie asked, leaning over to give Pyro a hug and a kiss on his cheek even as she blushed a dark pink.

"Apparently, the Professor thinks there's either a good sized group of mutants all flocking together near the river or one really big mutant lurking outside of town," Pyro gave a small shudder. "I'm all for a bit of togetherness, but…"

Lorrie blinked, "How big is big?"

Faith swore, showing off the few words that she'd picked up in some demon languages, Sumerian, Arabic, French and German. She couldn't ask for directions or order a sandwich, but she could curse someone's entrails to rot and seven generations of their descendants to be malformed, with bones filled with worms while also accusing them of enjoying buggering donkeys and crocodiles.

"Just as a guess, but that probably wasn't anything nice or polite. Apart from corrupting our sheltered ears, what prompted that?" Pyro was staring at her.

"A really big mutant that tends to be near the river, but is always outside of town? Isn't it obvious?" Faith looked at them, unable to quite smother her growl at their baffled expressions. "It's that over-sized vampire eating snapping turtle! The one that's about the size of a Volkswagen Bug? Eats sheep and vampires? Any of this sounding familiar?"

"I thought you were calling it a demon turtle?" Lorrie asked.

"Tanya told us about Binky the mutant deer, so we already know that there can be mutants that didn't come from human parents. If there's human mutants, and a mutant deer, why would a mutant turtle be so hard to accept?"

"Sounds like a rock band or something. Mutant Turtles, on tour now…" Pyro shook his head.

Lorrie giggled.

"The good news is that if it's a mutant turtle, then it's probably the only one like it. And if it eats vampires, it's probably willing to eat humans too. If it were a demon, then there'd probably be more of them out somewhere, possibly a lot more," Faith explained.

"Being a turtle, it probably wouldn't work to try to convince it to live in harmony with humans, or to use its mutation for good," Pyro mused, clearly thinking about something that he'd heard before. Likely from his old school, where he'd felt that the idea was to keep your head down, smile, and play nice with the humans.

"Of course, it's just as dangerous as a mutant turtle as it would be as a demon turtle," Faith sighed, and looked back at the book, where the letters all blurred for a few moments. She wondered if Mellie had been warning her about the turtle, or if there would be something else in her future.

End part 57.

After lunch the next day, Tanya managed to persuade Wesley that the teens should go outside and do something to burn off their energy instead of fidgeting in the library. Faith wasn't certain, but whatever Tanya had whispered had taken a while and had left Wesley looking all sorts of flustered…. Maybe it was better not to know.

"So, mutated wildlife…" Pyro shook his head, "Unbelievable… except that they're out there. You said there's a blue deer, and there's the giant turtle…"

"It makes me wonder what else might be out there," Lorrie offered. "What about telekinetic squirrels, or teleporting cats? Purple cows, or flying monkeys?"

Mort frowned, and after a few moments murmured, "Sabertooth? He's awfully quiet most of the time, and he doesn't react the same way as most people. Is he a human that mutated towards cat, or is he the most human looking cat in the world?"

"Cats can be pretty nasty. Have you run into the feral barn cats some places have? Or watched them with a cornered mouse?" Lorrie gave an exaggerated shiver. "They're cute and furry to lull us into complacency. Once they get thumbs, they'll try to take over the world… unless they get distracted by a shiny toy, catnip, or a nice sunbeam."

"Good thing then that they don't have thumbs," Pyro snickered. "Aren't there already enough people trying to take over the world?"

With a shrug, Faith commented, "Most of the ones that I've ran into with evil plans have been all for destroying the world, not taking it over. Except for Dick… Richard Wilkins. He was going to take over a nice section with good weather and destroy a lot of the rest. Before you ask, I've got no idea why destroying the world seems so popular. Or if the right plural is apocali or apocalypses. Or something else."

"School has clearly failed us on that point," Lorrie murmured.

"What's the official Slayer stance on mutants? Do either of you know?" Pyro asked in what had to be an effort to stop thinking about the plural of apocalypse and what sort of experiences would even make someone consider the questions.

"My Watcher, the one that just died, thought that mutants were some big, scary united evil danger, though he never really explained why. 'I'm the Watcher and I'm telling you that they're dangerous' doesn't really explain a lot," Lorrie offered.

Faith swallowed down her comments on Lorrie's recently killed Watcher. Just because he'd died a horrible death when he wouldn't tell the vampire what she wanted to know didn't clear him of everything else he'd done, and she'd though he sounded like a prejudiced, arrogant jerk. Instead, she focused on Mellie. "My first Watcher said that I should remember that mutants are people, so each one's going to react differently, don't let the demons and vampires eat them, and to always remember that the news is biased. More recently, I learned that some Watchers had found out that animals and demons could have mutants too, so I should be really careful. Just because most mutants aren't a danger to me doesn't mean that a particular one might not be a problem, and then there's the whole issue of demon mutants… demons are already problems most of the time. Goes along with the eating people thing that so many of them tend to do. And apparently, a mutant turned into a vampire keeps all their mutant abilities."

"Anything else different about a mutant vampire?" Pyro asked.

"The ones that I've run into felt stronger than they should have for their age, but… some mutants are stronger than ordinary humans. Maybe they were stronger mutants. A stronger mutant would make a stronger vampire, if they could catch and turn them."

Pyro considered that, and shuddered, "If I'm dead, cremate me. Before anything can eat me or walk around with my body."

Faith nodded, remembering having a similar, if more tearful, discussion with Mellie. "Just as long as you don't expect me to go the whole medieval route on you. You know, decapitation, incineration, scatter the ashes. Kills almost anything dead."

Mort pulled her into a hug, and whispered, "I wouldn't ask that of you. Having someone cremate us after making damn sure that we're really dead and not just injured will do."

"Yeah, that does sound pretty fatal to just about everything," Pyro whispered, his eyes wide. "If they weren't already dead, the beheading would probably do it. If that didn't – and is there anything besides a cockroach that can live without its head? If it survived beheading, fire's good at making things dead."

"The McCoren's for you tomorrow," Faith declared. "It's a big demon compendium, with more demons than you ever want to meet. What they look like, where they live, what they eat, and how to kill them. Beheading doesn't always work."

Pyro made a strange noise. By mutual consent, they dropped the subject of demons and beheading and turned to speculation about what other sort of mutant wildlife could be out there beyond a blue deer and a giant vampire eating turtle. Pyro was in favor of a pink elephant out there somewhere, possibly with a travelling circus… or maybe a flying elephant. Lorrie was hoping for flying monkeys, or maybe a purple one. Mort mentioned running into some scary large bats down near Mexico, and Faith had run into some very large alligators that were held by some vampires along Louisiana.

By the time they went inside for dinner, they had reached the levels of absurdity that meant they were tossing out ideas that had been made into bad movies and cartoons. Giant insects. Killer tomatoes. Oversize rubber piranha. Skinny talking moose and flying squirrels. Funky carnivorous plants. Tap-dancing mice. Spiders that put words into their webs. Talking furry animals with caption-changing shirts. A singing octopus. Purple cats with two tails each. A talking cowardly green tiger. Sparkly horses in rainbow colors with little symbols on their rumps. Blue birds that could make you happy or possibly sad – they did call depression 'the blues', after all.

The good mood fell apart when they resumed looking through books of demons, magical artifacts, and vampires. Pyro was making noises as he read the McCoren's Compendium. Faith and Lorrie were looking for the hat vamp and the scary June Cleaver-like vampire woman, though Faith had a suspicion about who hat-vamp might be.

"So, how often do Watchers manage to die from natural causes instead of demons?" Pyro whispered to Faith, trying to keep his voice too low for Tanya to hear.

Her mind flashed to Mellie, and to Lorrie's jerk of a Watcher, and Faith shuddered, "Not often enough. But some of them manage, which is better than Slayers. Slayers don't get to old age. Most Slayers don't live long enough to take a legal drink… not that that stops us. Most Watchers figure that if we're old enough to risk being horribly killed, we can have a beer or some vodka now and then. Or some other booze."

"Just when I start to think my life sucks, you go and remind me that it could be much worse," he sighed.

Flipping the page, Pyro blinked, "Is it horribly wrong that I think this one's almost hot looking?"

Mort leaned over and his jaw dropped. "What's Mystique doing in a book of demons?"

"Maybe she's a demon instead of a mutant?"

"Or maybe mutants have been around for longer than people thought."

"That's kind of creepy," Mort shook his head. "Back to looking for information on the magic door to tell us how to keep the vampire woman's evil plan from succeeding. And having seen her, it has to be an evil plan. Probably neatly pressed and well dressed, but evil."

Faith found herself thinking that their vampire June Cleaver would have probably got along pretty well with Dick. She'd even gone about fussing with her minions' wardrobes to make them fit her standards better, kind of like the way he'd kept buying her pretty sundresses and nice sandals. They'd have probably got along pretty good, unless her plan had clashed with his plans. Then again, that would have been just too much.

End part 58.


	29. parts 59 and 60

The next couple days went quietly, if full of stress and tension. Faith and Mort went patrolling each night, but failed to have another run in with the hat wearing vampire, the scary evil June Cleaver-like Mistress, or any additional mutant-vampires. There was what Faith described as a walking wrinkly dog-man, with a pizza box, but as he didn't seem to be causing trouble, Faith was content to just let him be. Binky darted across the road, nearly causing Mort to spill the bike, but neither of them suspected Binky of intentionally trying to harm them. No more vampire search parties at the cemeteries, and nobody rising and needing to be staked. Thankfully, they didn't run into over-sized turtle, which was a mutant and not a demon.

Just lots and lots of research with old books on magic devices, portals, bridging dimensions, and controlling the dead. Lots of research on the Schwannstein family.

Wesley and Lorrie had returned from the library on the second evening, with armloads of photocopies. Wesley was beaming, the look of someone who's managed to track down some errant and evasive bit of information. "I've found a few things that could be of use."

There were still some Thackerys living in the area, though the last person carrying the Schwannstein name had died almost twenty years ago. He'd found some bits of geneology, and a collection of photographs of Schwannsteins, Thackerys, and Millers, which made more sense when he explained that he'd traced the ownership of what was now Tanya's home.

As it turned out, Greta Schwannstein had married Jacob Thackery, who had expanded his family house for his new bride. Jacob had been described as a scholarly recluse, who had been educated in Europe, and considered quite the catch in the area. The home had stayed in the family, though in the fourth generation from Greta and Jacob, only one child had remained in the area, a daughter named Margaret Thackery. The home and surrounding lands had been her dower when she had married Alexander Miller. Their grandson, Timothy, had been rather wild, and part of the house had burned down after one of his parties, killing twenty people, including Timothy. Timothy's son, Donald, had repaired part of the house, converting it from grand manor to large farmhouse, and had led a far quieter life than his father. From Donald, the farm had passed down a few more generations, right to Eli Miller, and then to Tanya.

"So, I'm related to the Schwannsteins? The same ones that were in the mausoleum that Faith and Mort said someone cleaned?" Tanya blinked, considering the history of the building. "It is awfully big, even for an old farmhouse."

"Timothy must have thrown some wild parties," Pyro murmured, staring at the copy of the newspaper article. "His last one had a bodycount."

Faith was staring at the older pictures, looking at the Schwannsteins. "I can see a resemblance through the eyes. Not a bad looking family, Tanya."

"Look at this one," Mort commented, tugging one copy of a picture further from the others. "Greta and Erwin Schwannstein."

"She was cute," Pyro offered.

Lorrie gave an exaggerated glare, and a push, which caused Pyro to drop his lighter onto the pages. Thankfully, it hadn't been lit.

Faith stared at the lighter, which had landed partly over the head of Erwin. "Mort? Take a look – do you see what I do?"

"Made in China? Pyro, everyone knows the stuff made in China is junk," Mort frowned, and looked closer at the picture. "Hey, is that… the vampire in the hat? The one that said the idiots couldn't read a map. Erwin Schwannstein?"

"No wonder he stopped using his name," Faith whispered. "Guys, we've found the vamp in the hat."

The others crowded in to look at the picture, with Pyro wondering," Is a vamp in a hat anything like the cat in the hat? And can I get the lighter back?"

"My almost three centuries worth of greats uncle is a vampire," Tanya sighed. "Does this help, or is it just an odd little coincidence?"

"That might explain the clean-up of the mausoleum. It was supposed to be his place of burial," Wesley mused. "And it is not entirely unheard of for vampires to keep track of their mortal relatives. Often unpleasant for those relatives, and more than occasionally they have a habit of killing them or those who bother them, but…"

"So our vamp in the hat may not be that bad of a guy in this situation," Pyro questioned. "Other than the eats people part of being a vampire."

"I think it'd help a lot to know what was in that letter that Greta left for him. To know if he's been lurking around this whole time, or what," Faith was still staring at the picture. "Not to mention knowing just what it is that he thinks she deserves to get."

"That could be a very good question," Tanya agreed.

"Wait a minute – was there a Watcher in this area back when Erwin, our vamp in the hat, died?" Faith looked at Wesley. "D'you think you can get copies of any Watcher journals from around that time?"

"How close is that to the Witch Trials?" Pyro asked.

Wesley and Tanya both sighed.

"Low C in History," Pyro countered.

"No, he might be on to something," Faith insisted. "The whole witch trial craze would have pushed anybody who was really studying magic or anything like that to hide their stuff. Lots of people got into trouble with that, and a lot of people died while being held for questioning. It would be awful easy for some of them to have been vamped instead of just croaking. And our scary vampire woman is looking for a magic door. How long's she been looking for it, what's her connection to the Schwannsteins, and how's it taken her this long to figure out that the door's here? Or was she trying to get into the house for your uncle Eli's books?"

"Those are some very good questions. I will have to contact the Council to see if there was a Watcher posted here near the time of the American witch trials. If so, then they might have observed something that could be of use to us now," Wesley paused before sighing. "I suspect that the vampire in the hat, our presumed Erwin Schwannstein, could answer several of those questions for us. Though we have no way to be certain that he would be willing to do so without attempting to kill us. There is also the possibility that he might chose to be deceitful…"

"Right, a probably knowledgeable source of questionable honesty and cooperation, who might want us dead," Mort translated.

"And here I thought being a Slayer would be simple. See vampire or demon, kill vampire or demon. No fuss, no headaches, no big mysteries. I feel so disillusioned," Lorrie gave a melodramatic sigh. "Seriously, is it like this all the time?"

"Nah, lots of times it is just see vamp or demon, kill vamp or demon," Faith leaned back in her chair. "This just isn't one of them."

End part 59.

"Right, I think I'll go look in the library. Maybe I can find something about magic doorways in the books on the west wall," Lorrie shook her head, and lurched to her feet. "Vampires keeping track of generations… creepy."

"I can help," Pyro scrambled to his feet, snatching up his lighter.

As the youngest two left the room, Tanya sighed. "They're almost panicking about this. I'm not sure that I blame them; it is a bit creepy. Maybe… maybe tomorrow, we should start looking into how the various Schwannsteins, Thackerys, and Millers have died."

"Considering the time difference, perhaps now would be a good time to call England. If there was a Watcher in the area during the American witch trials, or during the time when Erwin Schwannstein died, their journals should be in the main archives." He paused, glancing at Faith, and murmured, "It might also be a good time to look into that other question."

"I know that some of the stuffed suits back in England were pretty ticked about me. If there's another Slayer, they'll figure that I'm dead and I won't have to watch my back for them," Faith insisted.

"But if there is another Slayer, then it means that…" Wesley faltered. "Well, it takes quite a bit to Call a Slayer."

"Go make your calls. 'M five by five," Faith waved Wesley towards the other room.

Wesley gathered up some of his pages, glancing at Faith as he did. Still a bit hesitant, he left the room.

"Another Slayer would mean…" Tanya clasped her hands together so tightly that her knuckles went white. "That sounds almost as creepy as a vampire watching the family for three hundred years."

Leaning back against Mort, Faith admitted, "Maybe I'm not quite five by five about it. I never thought about how much it must bug B to think of it like that. Another Slayer meaning that you died an' all. But I need to know. Some of those guys don't believe in second chances, they believe in permanent solutions for any problem."

"So you need to know, even if the answers are disturbing," Tanya nodded. "That makes sense. Ugly sense, but it does make sense."

"Lots of things about being a Slayer are ugly," Faith ran her finger along the edge of one of the pictures. "Lots of things about life in general, for that matter."

"As if I didn't have enough reasons to dislike the Watchers' Council as a whole. At least they won't be able to slip someone in without them being noticed – new people stand out a bit in a town this size," Tanya tried to smile.

"But will they even bother to send someone else? Or will they just shrug and dismiss the whole thing? What if they figure Lorrie's old enough that she won't be Called, and there isn't any… do they know about the Door? If they don't, they might just figure there's nothing worth watching," Mort wondered.

"With everything that they've already done, I think it might be best not to count on any help from them at all. We can hope that Wesley's friends can learn if there was a Watcher here before, three hundred years back, maybe see if they had any useful journals. We can hope that they might be able to answer Faith's disturbing question. But I'm done with counting on help from them," Tanya shook her head, brows furrowed with remembered slights and her uncle's abandonment.

"So we're pretty much on our own." Mort summed up.

"Yeah, but this time we're not on our own alone, we're together in this mess," Faith gave a weak smile, even as she slipped her arm around Mort. "We can count on each other."

Meanwhile, Wesley tried to call his friends in the Council. To some of them, he mentioned that the Slayer Called upon the death of Council-Trained Slayer Kendra had been hospitalized in critical condition before he'd left Sunnydale, and he didn't know what had happened. He followed that up with the question of where would the Slayer be now? Michael, Thomas, Bernadine, and Blevins hadn't known anything about a new Slayer. Jason had heard rumors about Taiwan and Asian demons. Constance had heard rumors about major problems with French shape-shifters, and thought that it might be a likely place for a Slayer to be Called. They'd promised to see if they could find anything out, with Thomas mentioning 'a few little tricks' that he could try.

When he talked to Monty, he said that he'd been travelling about the States to see the sights, and had found a bit of an interesting old story, and had wondered if there was any truth to it. The story was about somebody's ancestor who'd been afraid of ghosts, and tried to do something to prevent his home from being haunted. The sort of thing that a Watcher would find quite droll and might have noted down to share the joke with future Watchers. By chance were there any records from South Carolina, dating somewhere around three hundred years ago?

Monty had sounded a little too curious, asking if Wesley'd seen whatever it was that this 'mad ancestor' had attempted.

Much as Wesley wanted to think the best of his school friends, he'd learned some harsh lessons about the Council, and the darker side of human nature. With a weak chuckle, he'd answered, "I didn't, but for his family's sake, it would be nice if it worked. The place caught fire a few generations later. Fire is a very ugly way to die."

Agreeing on the ugliness of death by fire, Monty had sounded a bit disappointed. But if whatever the mad great-grandpa had tried was wild enough to still be talked about this long after, it must have been quite amusing. He'd promised to look and see if he could find anything, and to send copies if he did.

End part 60.


	30. parts 61 to 63

Most of the research into the deaths of the Schwannseins, Thackerys and Millers was handled by Wesley and Tanya. They intermixed this with sorting through the library to identify any of the older Watcher journals – after all, there might well be records of previous local Watchers, and it would be silly to go to the risk and delay of asking the Council for a copy of something that they already had.

Mort, Pyro and Lorrie were working hard on house repairs. Part of that was the blunt reality that much of the house needed work. Another part was that this gave them a very good reason not to be looking at books with woodcut art and detailed descriptions of things that would eat them, if given the chance. Mort was still giving the one book little frowns and muttering 'Mystique, just what are you, and do I want to know what you eat?'

Faith was checking places in the area that looked like normal lairs. She'd found a few scattered vampires with dirty, out of fashion clothing making it clear that they didn't work for June with the Cleaver. There was an old barn near the river that looked like something had very recently broken down the door. There were some bloodstains, a fallen pistol, some clothing up in the old hayloft – which had several tarps nailed up to keep light out – and a battery operated radio. But nothing to suggest that it was currently inhabited. What disturbed Faith the most was when she jumped back down from the hayloft and noticed a depression in the ground. Not quite round with four bumps and smaller holes just ahead of the bumps… "That giant turtle. Maybe we should figure out ways to get rid of car sized predatory turtles."

Faith made her way back to the house quickly after that. "Anything useful to report back here?"

"Lots of things, dunno about useful," Lorrie offered. "Why don't you start, your trip was probably easier to explain."

"The old power plant is empty. There was some sort of lurky thing with scales in the abandoned car garage with the green sign, but I didn't get a good look at it and it ran rather than fought. Couple minion vamps near the old school that isn't being used anymore. And it looked like there had been somebody hiding in an old barn near the river," Faith paused, thinking back to that footprint.

"What sort of somebody? Human, mutant, vampire?" Pyro asked.

"There wasn't anything that suggested food or a place to keep food, so I'm hoping vampire. It looked like that giant turtle broke through the door. I found bloodstains." Faith shivered. "Wes, can you try to find a good strategy to use against a turtle the size of a car that seems to have decided that vampires are tasty? Not that I'm too upset about it eating vampires, but what if it wants to expand the menu a bit?"

"Disturbing," Pyro agreed.

"We've found several Watcher journals, but the oldest is from two hundred years ago, and he was staying in a small house on the other side of town. A quick perusal gives no indication that he was aware of the Door. He did not have an active Slayer, but there was a potential here shortly after he'd arrived. She was not called, and eventually married, had children, and gave every indication of a normal life. There is no indication of the Mistress vampire being in the area during his tenure, or else she did not come to his attention. However, there is mention of a local hermit that only came out at night, frequently observing the Schwannsteins and the Thackerys. He speculated that there might be some sort of connection, but didn't have any information. So far, none of the deaths look like they were anything other than what is documented," Wesley pulled out an old book with a place marked by a scrap of grey ribbon. "He did include a sketch of this local hermit. Allowing for limited artistic ability, it could be Erwin Schwannstein."

"So the guy's been hanging around for a while," Lorrie frowned. "Is that normal for a vampire?"

"Hanging around the place you called home is pretty normal, unless there's major stuff going on to chase them out, or their sire is bent on travelling," Faith answered. "Hanging around in a way that people think 'crazy hermit' instead of creepy guy or why are there all these dead bodies isn't. Did the Watcher suspect Erwin of being a vampire?"

"While he clearly suspected the hermit of being somehow unusual, he didn't write any suspicions down in the journal that we have," Wesley shook his head. "I must wonder about his observational skills."

"There were also a few more recent journals. One of them from a little over a hundred years ago mentioned a lurking vampire, and the picture that he sketched in is definitely Erwin Schwannstein, and yes, he had a hat. That Watcher was living in town, and he'd mentioned searching for several magical artifacts, but the only one that he mentioned finding was something called the Blade of the Erinyes. Apparently he managed to get it sent out of town shortly before a well-dressed woman with old-fashioned words could acquire it herself, with the claim that she was seeking artifacts for a museum in Boston. She seems to have made quite the impression on him, and there's a full page sketch. The name that she was using was Ellen Travers. Lorrie says that the picture's a good match for this mistress vampire," Tanya added.

"So, I'm guessing that there aren't minion vampires in the abandoned school anymore? And what's the odds that the lurky with scales is a problem? Are there even scaled lurky things that don't need someone to go slay them?" Lorrie frowned, and then muttered something about scary things and nightmares and old books.

"No more minions in the school," Faith agreed. "As for that lurky, I don't know and yes."

"Whaaa?" Lorrie blinked. "A few more words would help."

"There are not so humans that are in the books of demons and don't always need to be killed. And some that the majority don't need killed, but they've got their crazies that do bad things, just like humans have their crazies. So lurky might not need to be killed, but I don't know how likely it is to need being killed. Best thing is to keep an eye out, because I don't want to chase it unless it needs killed, there's too much going on with the scary vampire woman to add more trouble," Faith explained.

"An accurate, if rather informal explanation," Wesley murmured. "It also leaves out mention of individuals that have been spotted that were unlike any other known demon species. One might assume that they are part of an entire species, but it takes more than one or two sightings to declare a species."

"Could those unique individuals have been mutants?" Mort asked.

"Well…" Wesley paused, a small frown on his face. "The circumstances sometimes sound as if it could be a rather visible mutant, but… I was under the impression that the presence of mutants was a new phenomenon. Some of these reports of solitary individuals are centuries old."

"How much of that is fast communication and… I know that there were charts about the global population. The curve looks like a rocket. Not many, a few more, and then just about shooting up. If there's one mutant in a million people, then before that could maybe be only one or two in the whole world, and probably not that visible. But what's the population now? A couple billion people? Of course there's more mutants. Especially if there is a connection to nuclear testing and mutation," Faith snorted.

"Nobody's sure about that theory," Pyro scowled at her. "And I think it was six or seven billion. A lot of them over in China."

"Okay, so maybe mutants aren't connected to the nuclear testing, and maybe they are. I don't care. But there's more of everybody now, and we can hear about it faster. Does that mean some old report wasn't about a mutant a few centuries back?" Faith shook her head. "And just what do we know for sure about our vamp in the hat, the evil wench, the magic Door, and evil plans?"

"He's shown an interest in the Schwannsteins, which would make sense if he is Erwin Schwannstein. We have no information on his plans, other than he seems to dislike the… well, I suppose calling her an evil wench would do. Though I suppose calling her an evil June Cleaver or June with the cleaver sounds a bit more polite. Beyond her desire to have the Door under her control and her apparent efforts to create a force of mutant vampires under her authority, we do not know. There is nothing in the books that we've gone through about the door… and she is giving us fits of frustration and headache," Wesley rubbed at his temples.

"She doesn't seem to be here all the time, the mentions of her seem to suggest that she's travelled. And there were mentions of a British accent in her early appearances," Tanya added.

"Evil British vampires," Lorrie grumbled. "Why doesn't she go back to England?"

"If you haven't got all your papers and documentation lined up, or if you look different from everyone else, or probably if you can't go out in the sunshine, travel's a lot harder," Mort commented. "I don't have problems with sunlight, but papers can be hard to get for a mutant, and some people won't do business with you if you look different. Not too sure about how vampires handle it, but the papers might be hard to get."

At the same time, Wesley muttered, "Being British is hardly a crime, even if there are a few… British vampires…"

Tanya looked over at Wesley, who had stopped moving and was now starring at some of the pages before him. "Wes? What's the matter?"

"Our mysterious vampire in the hat is most likely Erwin Schwannstein. Erwin lived in this house, before the drastic renovations. If the construction of the Door predates his death, then he would know about it. Would know that the object that the Mistress vampire is looking for is right here. Her obvious search for it suggests that he has not shared this information with her. Which means…" Wesley's voice tailed off and he took a slow breath. "This means that he is sincere in his non-support of her."

"But does it mean that he has his own plans for the Door? Or does he even know what it is?" Lorrie asked.

Faith frowned, thinking about the vampire in the hat. Thinking about how he'd stood back and watched as the minions attacking the house were killed. Had stood back and watched as she'd fought the minions at the cemetery. How he'd apparently been watching his family for a couple hundred years. And she remembered how B had her boytoy vamp Angel. "Maybe we should see if we can talk to the vamp in the hat. And see if he's got a name he prefers, because... Erwin? Damn."

"I'm not certain that such a thing would be wise…" Wesley murmured.

"Do we have a better way to figure out what he's up to and what he knows?" Pyro countered.

After several long moments of quiet, Tanya spoke up, "If you run into him again on a patrol, see if he'd be willing to talk. But only if you think you can talk to him safely. Neutral ground would be best – I have no interest in permitting a vampire into the house!"

Nobody else wanted a vampire in the house either. Especially not one that might have plans for the magical Door that they didn't quite understand.

End part 61.

Faith had considered things for a while, and decided to email a couple questions to Willow. She didn't think that the redhead could figure out where she was from the email, not unless she gave some specifics. And the worst that could happen would be that the other girl wouldn't have answers either.

To: RedRose99….

From: BackFromtheDark5x5…

Subject: Ugly Questions

Hey Red,

Me again – no, I'm not quite dead. 'Cept… the hospital. I know it was bad, but I don't know how bad. All the medical shows – do we know if I flat-lined before or during the coma? Would that Call another Slayer?

I'm here. B's there. Are there any other Slayers out there?

There's some weird stuff going on here – maybe I'll tell you about some of it some other time, if we all live.

I guess you've got nothin' new on the Door?

I had a weird dream. May have been a Slayer dream. Someone I trusted told me that there could be – were demon mutants. As in, we got human mutants, and there's demon mutants. And that I needed to watch myself if I run into any. If it was a weird dream – much wilder than purple squirrels stealing the Cheetos and beer to take over Chicago – then no harm, no foul. If it was a Warning, then pass the idea to B?

Faith.

Email sent and worries nibbling at her, Faith left the library. The house was rapidly moving past the point where she could do any of the actual repair work, which meant that was out. With a huff, she started gathering up a collection of broken broom handles, those little narrow bits of wood that got called 'dowels', scraps of 2x4's, and some likely looking sticks as well as a couple decent knives. With her collection of wood gathered, Faith started carving stakes. After all, it wasn't like they didn't keep, it wasn't like they wouldn't get used, and it took very little skill to make them. Unlike wiring or plumbing. Carving stakes didn't give her the same sort of headache behind her eyes that searching through old books produced.

Faith didn't worry about minor things like the passing of time, focusing instead of carving the stakes smooth enough that they wouldn't leave blisters or splinters if she needed to use them. Focusing on giving them sharp points, the better to kill vampires with. Focusing on calming her thoughts to the point where she didn't feel like snarling at people or attacking the next something that moved.

"Faith, come in and eat something!" Lorrie's voice called from the house.

With a sigh, Faith gathered up the new stakes and her carving knife before moving back into the house. "We now have a bunch more pointy sticks for vampires."

"Splendid. We've been attempting to determine a safer method to speak with Erwin Schwannstein, if he seems so inclined. A neutral location sounds like our best option, as we don't want him in the house, he's unlikely to want to be in a church, and we don't want to enter a vampire lair." Wesley paused, and then gestured towards the table. "We have a lovely pot roast."

"I'll have to feel out the idea if I run into him again," Faith agreed, heading towards the table.

"Feeling who now? Do I want to hear about this?" Pyro yelped.

"Feel out, not feel up. I don't date the undead, that was someone else," Faith snapped. "Hat vamp, remember? What he may know. And only if it looks safe to ask. More importantly… is that home-baked bread?"

"Yes it is, sit down and eat," Tanya smiled.

"Assuming that you don't mind the company, I'd like to go with you on patrol tonight,' Mort offered, the scent of scorched wires and that hard to explain scent of electrical workings clinging to him.

"Looking for a break from the wiring?" Faith smiled.

"That and I can't guard your back if I'm not there," he agreed.

"Sounds good. Maybe when we get back, they'll have found something in the old books." Faith nodded, pleased with having her boyfriend planning to go with her tonight. "Now, pass the food." She glanced at Tanya, and could almost hear the chiding words from Dick and Mellie. "Please."

End part 62.

After dinner, Faith and Mort headed for his motorcycle, with an assortment of stakes and knives, as well as a crossbow. They headed away from the house, and Mort pulled into the cemetery where they had first seen Lorrie waiting for a vampire to rise. Half turning so that he could see Faith, he asked, "Do we have a plan for tonight?"

"Unless we see something major or run into some minions to chase down or that turtle to avoid, there's a couple places further out of town that I wanted to check out. Junie's got to have a lair somewhere, and I'd feel better if we're at least looking, and we may find something else. Maybe talk to hat-vamp if we see him. Warn any mutants to be damn careful after dark, if we can spot any, if it isn't too late. Check the cemetery, avoid the turtle… pretty much the usual." Faith shrugged.

"Fair enough. Lead the way, I'll follow and watch your back," he gestured towards the middle of the cemetery.

"Watch my back or watch my backside?" Faith grinned.

"Both – it's a shapely backside," Mort grinned.

Thirty minutes later, the pair concluded the little cemetery had no signs of any vampires hanging about, risen or otherwise. The only other thing of note was a small headstone for Charles Franklin Pinfield, with a set of dates. There were no other Pinfield headstones around the small stone, and it looked rather recent.

"Lorrie's Watcher that didn't trust mutants?" Faith asked, gesturing towards the headstone.

"The date seems right," Mort mused. "Wouldn't they want him to be buried at home though?"

"Maybe they sent him away to be abandoned and forgotten too, like Tanya's uncle."

"Depressing. Can we go now?" Mort gave a shudder.

"Yeah. There's nothing to stay in this cemetery for," Faith agreed.

The old motorcycle factory was empty. The signs that they found suggested the pair of vampires they'd already killed hadn't been part of any larger groups, and didn't have any minions lingering behind. Mort was just glad the turtle wasn't hanging around anymore.

An old grain silo further out of town also seemed abandoned, though their investigations startled a flock of birds. Faith blinked when the flicker of motion out of the corner of her eye proved to be Mort catching a bird and eating it with his tongue. "Damn it, you've been holding out on me! You mentioned the green, you mentioned the super-jumping. Not once did you see fit to mention an eighteen inch tongue as a special power!"

Mort blinked, and then gave a grin while blushing and waggling his eyebrows, "I'll make it up to you later?"

"Damn right you will." Faith insisted. Maybe the eating whole birds was a little strange… alright, it was pretty strange, but she could deal with his strange. He dealt with her strange, in the form of 'Slayer'. But the benefits… the benefits definitely would outweigh the strangeness there.

They headed back towards town, trying to figure out their next stop. She didn't know the area well enough to get from the old silo to the next place that looked like a possible lair. Faith was also debating the merit of grabbing a bit of extra food to take along. They were moving through town, having just passed a gas station, and a closed Laundromat when Mort pointed towards the grocery store, "Isn't that our pal with the hat?"

Following his gesture, Faith saw a man in a hat walking out of the grocery store, a plastic bag over his arm. Between the battered jacket and the plastic bag, he looked unremarkable. Unthreatening. He felt like a vampire.

"I think it is," Faith felt herself grin. "Bet he'd stay civil along the sidewalk."

"Good idea," Mort pulled the motorcycle into an empty parking spot.

They had to move at a brisk walk to catch up to him, and Faith called, "Hey!"

He turned, his eyes flickering from dark to a bright vampire yellow for just a moment when he caught sight of her. His weight shifted a little, prepared to move or dodge, and he gripped the plastic grocery bag in a way that it would stay closed. "Something bothering you, ma'am?"

"Just a few questions," Mort gave a weak looking smile and a shrug. "We didn't have a phone number for you."

"Mmmm. I suppose that does make getting in touch a bit trickier," He motioned towards a big blue postal drop box, "Best not block the sidewalk, even if things are quieter now than they would have been a few hours ago."

Faith and Mort followed him over to the postal box, with the pair of them on one side, and the vampire in the hat on the other, with the box between them To Faith, the moment felt weird, the sort of weird that she thought was called surreal.

"So, Erwin Schwannstein?" Faith murmured.

"I haven't used that name in a long time. It was one of several things that I could never forgive my father for." He paused for a moment before sighing, "I suppose you could just call me Stein. Nobody who knew me before is still alive, none of my friends are around anymore. Initials would sound ridiculous, and I was never much for nicknames."

"You've been watching your family?" Faith asked.

"Yes. They are my family, even if I didn't like all of them. And…" Again, he paused. "I doubt you care that much about my reasons. There are several, they are mine, and they will hold."

"Tanya's a little freaked out by the idea," Mort offered.

He made a thoughtful noise, his head tilting just a little to the side. "I take it then that Eli hadn't had the chance to talk to her about me."

"Wait… Eli, her uncle the old Watcher… he knew about you?" Faith blurted.

"Some. He knew that I am family, that I've been keeping an eye on them. Knew I am not a danger to the family as long as they remain decent members of society. More to his interest, I'm an excellent resource for historical questions, especially about local events," there was a thin smile at the last statement.

"You don't like Junie, do you?" Faith asked.

"Junie?" He blinked at her, his brows dipping lower, "Junie…?"

"That crazy woman who… she sort of looks like June Cleaver, only more likely to be June with a cleaver. And we don't know her name," Faith explained.

"Her name is Patience." At their disbelieving look, he chuckled, "Naming children, especially daughters, after the virtues used to be very popular. Patience, Hope, Charity, Prudence, Chastity, Faith, Grace, Joy, Temperance… Some people even named all their daughters after virtues. Naming sons after Apostles was more common. Some of the virtue names have become less common in later days. And no, she isn't very patient, even if she is named for it."

Faith shook her head, thinking about what he'd said. While she'd known that she had a virtue-name, she was suddenly aware of just how much worse it could have been. Prudence sounded like an insurance company. Chastity or Temperance would have been taken as challenges. "Know why she wants that special door so much?"

"The usual. To gain power, destroy her enemies, leave them broken heaps bleeding and sobbing at her feet before she kills them."

"To try to take over the world?" Mort shook his head, "That is pretty common."

"She's gone a bit mad, you know. Half of her enemies have been dead for… well, longer than I have. She still thinks the Door will let her find them, break them, gloat a bit and then kill them." He settled the bag on top of the postal box, and pulled out a package of green gummy candies. Opening the package gave a strong scent of mint. "I'm not strong enough to beat her in a fight, and a bit too self-centered and fond of existing to try something that would take me out with her."

"Tell us where she stays," Faith gave a little smile. "We might be able to try something."

"The Schwannstein manor," he gestured away from the middle of town. "She managed to get it about a century ago. She isn't alone either."

"There's a lot of big old houses…" Mort began.

"This one used to be my father's."

Faith blinked. "Umm… is there… has she got a grudge against your family or something?"

"Against my father. Who died years and years ago. I don't know what started it, but that's been the cause of more than a few of the things she's done," one hand touched his throat, and he shook his head. "She hasn't been quite right in the head since before I ever met her. I don't know why."

"I hate fighting crazy people," Faith muttered.

Mort shivered, "Its worse when you don't know they're crazy until after a while. You don't know where their limits are, or even if they have them."

"True. I'll be seeing you around." He tucked the mint gummies back into his bag, and gave a nod towards Faith, "Slayer."

"Faith." She snapped.

"Ehh?" He blinked at her.

"My name is Faith. Not… that's what I do, not who I am." Faith didn't quite glare at him. "And this is Mort."

"Fair enough," He gave a small nod, "I'll be seeing you around, Faith and Mort."

End part 63.


End file.
